The Lost Primarchs: Spartan-002 Revamped
by ExiledAdrian
Summary: AU and a rewrite of an old story I wrote. I apologize for not finishing it and deleting it while you all read it. Now, I am rewriting it, though I hope it may be good or just as good as the first. Michael Soaring Hawk has always known that he was not exactly human. Chosen as a Spartan-II by Doctor Halsey due to an incident, Michael finds that his destiny will change that of others
1. Chapter 1: The Emperor's Monologue

**The Lost Primarchs: Spartan**

 **(A/N: Hey Everyone! I've decided to re-do The Lost Primarchs: Spartan! Bear in mind, this is a rewrite. I do plan on one or two sequels for this story. I am sorry the last one got deleted before it was finished... along with a Displaced Knight. However, I do promise that i will do my best to finish this. Besides: I believe I owe Michael and his brother a story, don't I? :)**

 **Chapter 1**

I've gone by many names over the millennia, though I now forget them all thanks to a battle that costed me my life in this plane of existence and my mind being fragmented. For ten thousand years, I have sat on this Golden Throne, whereas it was supposed to have been Magnus the Red, my arcane son, who should be sitting here... or rather, we may or may not would have had shifts sitting in the bloody thing. I built it as both a life support and a throne for ruling my Imperium as I extended my Astronimican, my psychic Light to guide the navigators of Imperial ships through the dimension known as the Warp. The same Warp that the four entities that call themselves 'God' call home along with their demonic minions.

I was not always like this: a 'Corpse-Emperor', a 'Corpse-God' as my traitorous sons now call me. I have always been the true Emperor... but in hindsight, I admit, I have made mistakes as I now seek to aid and protect mankind as best as I can, though I know for a fact that my life support is failing with the Throne having irreparable damage from a long time of service... should've thought of that contingency plan a lot earlier before I did the Great Crusade.

In the past, the very distant past, I was once a man, like you. I cannot remember everything, sadly... only pieces. I remember being there during the Dark Age of Technology, when science was worshipped as a god. I had been hiding in the shadows, fighting a secret war against Chaos, yes- that is the name of the faction of the four entities: the Four Chaos 'Gods'... more like aspects of something else.

I, and my servants that now lie dead and unremembered save to me, fought them over the countless centuries. When the Age of Strife happened, when the galaxy suffered a warp storm the likes of which had never been seen before, as the psykers of those days (save myself) all became insane and gateways to insanity and depravity, the nation that Mankind had known collapsed in bloody and evil ruin.

I remember seeing it in the skies above Earth as I felt it in my head. Later, I realized what had happened as soon as I met the Eldar later on during a private meeting: the Eldar that I knew then had destroyed themselves through complete and utter depraved pleasures, giving birth to the thing that consumed almost all of their souls when it was born. The death-scream had killed the psykers of every race in the galaxy. The Eldar had suffered as much as us I believe, or one of us suffered more. I am obliged to say it was humanity that got the short end of the stick. The Eldar think very differently.

As for certain worlds that were primitive, they killed their psykers, a dreadful fate. I cannot say as to their fate in the Warp as their souls returned to it. It is suffice to say that one should hope that they remain safe until either reborn, if one believes it or not... then again, the truth is very different from what one wishes and ought to be the same as everywhere.

I decided to become the Emperor and began a war of conquest across old Earth, or in the 31st millenium: Terra. The name changed over the years alongside other worlds's nomenclatures.

I created the prototypes of the Space Marines, or Legionnes/Adeptus Astartes: the Thunder Warriors. They fought my war across the world. When the Wars of Unification were over, I incorporated the Thunder Warriors into their successors. I created twenty legions of them... but they were not led by mere Space Marines, no. I created their Primogenitors... their 'Primarchs'.

The Dark Powers knew I had been working on them: twenty super-human warriors, leaders, and statesmen that would lead my legions and govern my Imperium alongside the now-defunct Imperial Senate. Each gene-seed was created from my own DNA, but greatly engineered and enhanced. I admit, I used powers from the Warp to make them charismatic. I cannot admit to be perfect as I am a man, powerful, yes; but a man nonetheless.

However, tragedy struck when the dark powers took them away. Each pod was sent to a certain world that raised it. Each Primarch that I found soon conquered their birth-world... save three: Angron and the two that I have never discovered.

I rediscovered them, the most happiest times of my life save when I denied Angron his right to die alongside his brothers... when I should have aided him in battle myself ( a much better solution).

I gave each son their own legions, tailored to to their genetics and style of warfare. There were only two legions that were left over as I never did find the two Primarchs: II and XI. Not even after Horus betrayed me along with those who followed him did I find them. I don't think Horus ever found them either or I would've seen them in battle myself.

We fought a great and terrible war that lasted for years. Worlds were destroyed, fates were changed... and our reach for peace had ended... forever, perhaps.

When the great battle occurred, I hesitated to make a decision, believing I could save my son... Horus. I didn't believe it even when I saw my angelic son, Sanguinius, on the floor, his body broken and lifeless with his sword broken. I had felt his sons' Black Rage be born when he died. A fate that shall haunt them alongside their other secrets forever. Then, I saw Trooper Persson die in front of me and then and there I knew what I had to do as I was wounded as I tried to reason with him.

I then fought with all my strength, using my last vestige of power to annihilate my son's soul from existence to prevent him from being reborn as a Champion for Chaos. At the very last moment of his existence, he realized what he had done, but it was too late. I couldn't save him... nor could I save Magnus, Angron, Perturabo, Lorgar, Alpharius Omegon (the twin Primarchs), and Konrad... whose warnings I should have listened to when he was still on my side.

Now, here I sit, protecting mankind from the full weight of Chaos. Every instant a painful and more than excruciating agony. If I had a text-to-speech device, it would still hurt to even press the buttons. I cannot help but wonder about my other sons as my power and mind has been fragmented.

Fragments of my power and mind most likely still lie adrift... but I can and have sensed the birth of these fragments in physical forms. I can only hope that they find, if possible, the fates of my lost sons.

Recently, as I sense the Great Rift be born as Cadia itself finds itself besieged again, I see visions of two men far away from each other. One whose name I shall say later... but the other... is one whose name and titles echoes throughout the warp amongst others.

Michael Soaring Hawk, Michael-002, The Soaring War Hawk, the Thunder Warrior, the Stormcaller, Spartan-002, and of course: Primarch of the Second Legion.


	2. Chapter 2: The Shaman's Prophecies

Chapter 1

 **( A/N: I apologize if I get anything wrong or if it doesn't seem to make sense, Native American-wise. I wanted to change a few things from the original version. )**

 _Skaelingheim Village_

 _Harvest_

 _Epsilon Indi system_

 _Human Space_

 _15 March 2511_

The village of Skaelingheim was named like other locations across Harvest after places of Norse mythology. However, 'Skaeling' was more of the actual name that the old Norsemen of those days gave to the peoples of North America that they had met in those bygone days. Under the starlit and moonless sky, the town was a lit with lights from the houses and the lone public house. The town sat at the bottom of a mountain, wherein a path from the mountain led to a certain cave that too was a lit though, not by electric light.

The entire population of Harvest was descended from those who came from what had been then- the Midwestern states of the United States, and before that- the Native American tribes of the Chippewa, Blackfeet, and the Sioux, along with other smaller tribes that were lesser known. However, those tribes were now scattered across the stars as most of the old homeworld was now industrialized and urban. Not much green left, sadly, though there were preserves.

A red pick-up truck came down the dirt road leading into the village, with four occupants in the vehicle, though they were shadowy. The car was the only thing out that night near the village as it came in from the forest behind it. It was unremarkable as it came into a parking lot and parked right in front of a motel. The pick-up truck with its headlights turned off and the occupants stepped out.

Two men came out with a woman. In the light of the electric street lamps, their faces had a reddish tone of skin along with jet black hair. The men looked similar to eachother, one being older than the other significantly. Both wore long-sleeved plaid shirts and jeans with combat boots.

The older man had scars on his right cheek from a battle and a scar across his nose. His hair, while black, was getting grayer every day. Wrinkles dotted his eyes. His dark eyes looked around. The younger man, apparently his son, was about twenty-years younger than him, about thirty. His black hair was short with a flat top while his father had his more long like that of his ancestors. He bore no scars on his face, save those underneath his shirt.

The woman that they were with didn't bear any similarity to them. She had a very beautiful face that was heart-shaped with the age of someone in her late twenties. She wore no make-up that anyone could discern. One would think that she was the White Buffalo Calf Woman of Lakota legend, if she wore that person's clothing and if she was Lakota. She wasn't, sadly.

Her black hair was long and stretched down her back in a braid. In her arms that were covered by a plaid shirt as well, was an infant in a blanket. His skin too was red. She looked down at the infant as the infant looked up at its apparent mother and cooed. The old man walked around the front of the truck.

"Think they'll let us see him?" The younger man asked his father. The old man sighed.

"Truth be told, I haven't a clue." The old man said, shaking his head. Just then, a man stepped out in a short-sleeved collared shirt. He was middle-aged with a fat belly unlike the old man who was fit.

"That you, Jacob?" The middle-aged man shouted from the porch of the bar. The old man, known as 'Jacob' sighed the word 'shit'.

"Yeah, it's me!" Jacob said, raising his hand as he lowered his head. The middle-aged man shook his head and sighed. He then turned his head and leaned back towards the door shouting in the tribal tongue, one that only the people of this village knew. Then, more people came out of the bar. Jacob's son moved close to the woman, putting a hand over her and the infant. His eyes angry as to what the people of the village would do.

"I thought we told you, you and your son are not allowed back in after what you did!" The middle-aged man barked at him with a wary expression on his face, as did the others of the bar. Soon, others came out of the buildings.

"I wanted to serve a cause beyond myself,"

"You fought for those whom drove us off our ancestral land, you asshat!" A Native American man barked from the back along with similar jeers. Jacob and his son gritted their teeth.

"What the fuck are you doing back here, Chris?!" A younger man roared, walking out of the crowd as more and more people gathered. The baby started to cry as though it felt the tension in the air. The woman held him close, shushing him.

"Your kid's not allowed here too. So, get the fuck out of here. You don't belong here," The middle-aged man. The crowd kept jeering and getting closer.

"We've come to see the Shaman!" Chris shouted. There was a laugh from many of the men.

"Like she'd be willing to see _you_ ," The middle-aged man spat in disgust. He walked forward as he spoke.

"Take your damned daughter-in-law, your son, and your grand-kid out of town before I-" Then, the strangest thing started to happen. Storm clouds started to gather. Everyone looked up as the infant was crying. The middle-aged man, with his stubble growing on his fatty chin looked up in wonder as the clouds gathered. All knew that there was supposed to be a cloudless sky tonight and tomorrow.

Then, as the clouds darkened the sky for miles around the town, a bolt of lightning came down in a flash, nearly hitting the fat man on his head, striking the dirt right in front of him, making him jump back and yelp in fear. Others started to rain down amongst the crowd, nearly killing people, hitting buildings, cars, and even the mountain.  
Curses and shouts came as people tried to dodge it. Then, just as it came, the storm clouds dispersed and the lightning attack stopped.

One of the men swore in the old tongue alongside many others. The fat man looked at the family of four in shock. They hadn't been harmed, only stunned in disbelief at what had just happened.

The man looked at the infant who had stopped crying.

"Get... that..." The fat man said, pointing at the baby as he spoke with fear, shaking as he spoke.

" _thing_ out of our damned village before it kills us all!" The woman clutched the baby with protective fear. Jacob looked up to see a figure in the distance, near the top of the mountain, right where the cave would be. Then, a voice spoke carried by the wind. It was an old woman's voice. Everyone fell silent at the sound of her voice.

"What did she just say?" The woman asked. The fat man scoffed.

"You're an outsider, like hell you'd understand what she says."

"I'm Cheyenne, jackass." The woman told him angrily, her eyes narrowing into slits like a snake.

"You betrayed your people by adopting a foreign religion," The man spat back.

"She says you can come up here, but I'm going with you as you're all outsiders." The man said, angrily. Jacob, Chris and Chris's wife carrying the child went up the mountain pass.

"When was he born?" The fat man asked as they walked up the mountain pass. The couple were silent.

"She didn't give birth to him, Nate. We found him out in the woods as we were chasing some animals away from our ranch." Jacob answered for them.

"If he's not your kid, then why the fuck did you brin him here?" Nate asked, angrily.

"Would _you_ like to explain to ONI how you somehow got a hold of a kid who fell from the sky in a weird-ass cryopod?" Jacob spat at the man, Nate. Nate sneered.

"Found him out in the woods in a pod, what the hell kind of story is that?" Nate snarled.

"It's the honest to God truth, Nate." Chris spat back.

"And don't you go blaming the kid for what happened. We can't bring him to a hospital because ONI's going to take him away."

"And you sure as fuck can't raise his weird ass here!" Nate snapped.

"We're of the same clan, same dead tribe and you fuckers banished me for wanting to go off and fight! Where's the justice in that?!"

"The justice in that is that you're fighting for the wrong fucking people!" Nate said, looking at the man.

"I've half a mind to toss you all off this damn pl-" Just then the baby started to cry again as the storm clouds gathered.

"Now, look what you did!" The woman snapped at the old fat man before trying to console the child.

"He's a newborn, how the fuck can he understand me?!" Nate said, confused and angry.

They arrived at the shaman's cave. The fat man stepped in first and then spoke the ancient language of their ancestors. Not many spoke it these days sadly. The shaman sat down behind a fire pit with the flames giving off a reddish-yellow glow in the cave. Paintings on the walls showed tribal legends from before the tribe had been almost exterminated by the white cavalrymen of the 1800s.

Her silver hair was braided into pig-tails and her once beautiful face had sagged over the years. She wore a simple traditional outfit of deerskin with a staff of feathers. She looked up at the outsiders that came in.

 _"You were told never to return after you served the White Man... both of you,"_ The shaman said in the old language.

 _"We had no choice. The child has been in our care for a week now and we are uncertain. We request your guidance, shaman."_ Jacob said back in the old tongue.

 _"My mother warned you before you married your wife not to join the military and you blatantly disregarded that order!"_ She said, waving her hand.

 _"And you!" She spat, looking at the man's son._

 _"You followed in his footsteps after he was banished despite all warnings, and you married a woman who abandoned her traditions!"_ She said the last bit with venom at Christopher's wife. The young woman looked indignant. She then spat back in Cheyenne.

 _"How dare you! We come to you for help, you old witch and this is how you treat us?! These men are your family!"_

 _"I don't speak Cheyenne,"_ The shaman said in the old tongue, the name long forgotten by time.

"She doesn't speak Cheyenne, outsider." Nate snarled, his face turning into that of a pig.

"I know what she said, your former nephew taught me your tongue." The woman said, angrily.

 _"Why have you brought the child here?"_ The shaman asked.

 _"We need guidance, though we are banished, shaman. We need help. We do not know where this child is from or who his true family is."_ Jacob explained.

 _"Let me see him,"_ The shaman said, extending her hands towards the child. Her face showed neither pity nor concern for the child. The woman held the child close as she feared what the old woman would do to her.

 _"You demand an explanation and I shall give you one. Now give me the boy."_ The shaman ordered. The woman carefully placed the child in the old woman's hands. She inspected him, removing a bit of cloth as she gazed at him.

 _"He is of our race, that much is certain. Though..."_ The shaman paused as she looked closely. She then touched the boy's cheek. Immediately, she gasped. Fearing for the boy's life, the younger woman grabbed the child from her before the child could be dropped.

The old woman started shaking and her eyes rolled back as her mouth dropped.

 _"Shaman?"_ Nate asked in the old tongue.

"Aunt Cloud!" He said, his voice rising as he rushed to her aid as her head tilted up. She then started speaking rapidly as though she were reciting or praying something. The younger woman clutched her child as the men watched in horror. Occasionally words came out that were very... strange.

 _"Thunder Warrior,"_ She first said and then said something incoherent.

 _"Spartan,"_ She said, her voice becoming very strange and distorted as she shook. Nate looked at her in shock as she spoke several other words that didn't make any sense.

 _"Storm Caller..."_ She babbled again further.

 _"Primarch..."_ She whispered. The new mother then reached for the old woman's hand and then she saw something.

 _Her vision became blurry and then she saw a series of flashing images:_

 _She saw the boy, her new child, grow into a man, only he was more than a man. He saw his life flash before her eyes. She saw him with children younger than him as they trained on a world she didn't recognize. She witnessed him growing larger and larger until he was twice the size of a two story house! She saw him wear a strange sort of plate armor as he waged war against alien foes with a rifle that blasted death and destruction. He also wielded two hatchets, a chainsword at times, and even went so far as to call down thunderstorms._

 _She saw him fight alongside much smaller men wearing armor with his color. On all of their pauldrons, including his own, he had a thunderbolt coming down from a stormcloud in between two hatchets. They too fought alongside men and possibly women in olive green armor._

 _She saw chaos and death, war and pain. She saw whole worlds be destroyed and cities turned into rubble. She saw her massive son kneel before a figure smaller than him, but in golden armor that should have made him barely move but had no bearing. The man radiated an aura of power, authority and glory as he looked upon her son as he bowed his head. His armor was similar to what she had seen him wear before. She didn't know where he was at this point in his life. He was so much older, with his head still cropped short and his face starting to have a beard. Her son's eyes looked down at the ground in humility as a massive gauntleted fist was on the ground._

 _The man looked at him as he smiled with his dark eyes that had numerous crow's feet. His black hair was straight and his head wrapped in a laurel wreath. He bowed his head as he tilted her son's chin up to face his own._

 _"I have waited to see you for a very long time, Michael." The man said in a British-Turkish accent in a paternal tone._

She gasped as she came back into reality.

"Susan?" Chris asked, worried as he put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at her husband and saw his eyes had fear in the glow of the fire.

"I'm fine," Susan said and then looked at the Shaman who stared at the child, blinking every few seconds She was silent and had staggered back as though drunk. She panted and then took a big gulp.

 _"What shall you call this child?"_ The shaman asked, _l_ ooking at the new mother with Jacob translating for her. The shaman's nephew and chieftain looked between the two women in disbelief.

 _"His name is to be Michael,"_ She said, choosing the name of the Patron Saint of Warriors in the religion that she grew up in. She looked down. She then spoke his name.

"Michael," She whispered softly as the baby looked up at her. The boy cooed and smiled. She smiled back and kissed his forehead as Christopher also looked upon his new son with Jacob looking at the shaman. The shaman stared at the boy.

 _"I would recommend that you keep him far from us... I would rather not have another incident like that ever again,"_ The shaman advised, shaking her head. She clutched it as blood came out of her nose.

 _"Oh, spirits! Your nose!"_ Her nephew said, grabbing a kerchief from his pocket. The shaman raised a hand and wiped her bloody nose, the crimson smear on her traditional deer dress. She shook her head.

 _"He will be entirely something else... something we never expected."_ She stated. She seemed very... disturbed.

 _"He is one of us,"_ She acknowledged.

 _"But he must live apart from us... is that understood?" She said to the two men._

Both men nodded.

 _"Yes, Shaman."_ They said simultaneously.

 _"Now, go home." S_ he ordered.

 _"But, know that he will be taken someday."_ She added before they left.

 _"For in the grim darkness of our future: there is only war."_ She said, cryptically. Nate frowned and looked at the child as the mother was helped up by her husband.

They all looked at the shaman before they left. She seemed very off. Nate stayed behind, ensuring that they left.

 _"Aunt, are you alright? Something happened to you, we all saw."_ The chief said in the old tongue, gesturing to outside.

She blinked.

 _"I feel as though I have been awakened... and yet... I feel very small, as if I am but one candle amongst so many others in a vast sea of something indescribable."_ The old woman commented.

 _"I must rest... if I can,"_ she said, going towards her mat.

 _"Leave me,"_ She ordered her relative, whom followed the command. That night, she tried to sleep... but only felt awake as she slept.

XXXX

 _Ares City_

 _Mars_

 _Solar System_

To all intents and purposes, Aslan Shah was a private investigator. His office overlooked the city from a tall skyscraper as he had amassed enough wealth over the years to do such a thing, along with other things that lay outside of human space. He looked out towards the night sky as the lamp of his desk shone behind him. He studied the stars with his eyes.

His jet black hair was short and neat and his skin was sun-tanned. Just as before, he looked like someone descended from Turkey, with the accent to boot, but he did have a bit of a British-twinge to it. Whenever he spoke, men of cinematic historical studies would say that he sounded very much like Patrick Stewart. Sadly, he never met any of those great actors in those days, but he did see their films.

He was tall, about six feet in height with a muscular frame. His body was covered in a two-piece black suit with a blue collared shirt and a gray tie.

"I know you're out there,' He said, his voice speaking to someone who would be listening if he could.

"I've waited so long for you to come.. and you did. Now the question is:" Shah said.

"Where in the galaxy are you right now?" He asked, his eyes squinting.

He had waited over five thousand years for this moment, the moment when he would finally discover the fate of one of his lost sons. To the world, he had been many names... but to his people in another time and place he went by other titles: the Master of Mankind, the Father of Mankind, the Anathema to his enemies, and of course: the Emperor of Mankind.

 **( A/N: I always imagine Patrick Stewart voicing the Emperor of Mankind. I guess because of his role as the Emperor or Tamriel and the fact that he's such a great actor!)**


	3. Chapter 3: Meet Doctor Halsey

Chapter 3

 **(A/N: I have no idea what date in 2517 Doc Halsey met John-117 as a kid and quite frankly, I'm setting this after she meets John. And I am sorry for doing things a bit differently than the normal Spartan candidate acquisition process. If you hate it, let me know on how to change it.)**

 _2517_

 _Utgard Constabulary Station_

 _Utgard_

 _Harvest_

 _Epsilon Ipsi system_

 _Outer Colonies_

 _Human space_

Michael Soaring Hawk sat in the interrogation cell with a two-way mirror looking at him. He knew there was someone watching him, a woman, two men, he thought, judging by the presences he felt.

It was one of his gifts, something to do with his mind. He could sense people and things around him: Thoughts emotions, that sort of thing, provided they weren't well guarded, though he suspected he could at one point probe so hard that he'd be able to break that guard.

He thought about what had led to this. It was supposed to be an ordinary day. He took a break from homeschooling, which meant that he did some research on the Net that was allowed by his parents along with some reading. Mom had given him some lessons followed by lunch, and Dad and Grandpa told him some stuff as well. Mom gave him a bit of a rundown on certain diseases, as well as their symptoms, stuff like the Flu, Common Cold, Jaunedice, that sort of thing. She saved the more severe diseases 'for when you're older'. Dad and Grandpa had him recite some military and political quotes along with some testing on certain historical events, especially his clan's part in history: namely: the Trail of Tears after the US Government forced a shit ton of Native Americans from their land to the reservations, far from home, the filthy pricks. Well, those men were long and dead, but the Native Americans never forgot the shit that happened to them.

After that, he went into town to see if he could _maybe_ make some friends, preferably kids who were nine as opposed to kids who were six years old. Technically, he _was_ six but he looked like he was nine... as in he was a buffy six-year-old who had the body of a shortass that was a body builder. Hell, he could go for being a linebacker in little league football, but he couldn't! Why?! Because he was completely fricking something else. Mom, Dad, and Grandpa wouldn't talk about it and when they did, they'd all go out for a drive to talk about it to make sure he wasn't listening... his hearing was _that_ good. Then, he went to the pizza shop after hitting the arcade, the bookstore, any place that had something kids his age... only to be vastly disappointed.

When he crossed the street, the Constabulary picked him up just down the road from the Parliament Building and he wound up here... they didn't tell him why they brought him in or what he was charged with. He wasn't scared one bit... well, if he could feel fear, it would be Mom going absolute bat-shit crazy over him being at the Constabulary station.

Michael sighed. Just then, an image popped right up from the projector in the table. He looked and blinked.

"Seriously," He said, blinking and looked at the mirror.

"You're having Uncle Mack interrogate me?! Not a detective?!" He said, pointing at the cowboy-looking AI's Avatar. He felt three presences feel a bit humorous about it.

'Go ahead and laugh, I don't fall easy for traps' Michael thought.

"How's it goin', Mike?" Mack said, his appearance a bit dusty, giving off the impression that he was hard at work. Michael jerked his chin up.

"Mack," Michael said, nodding as he closed his eyes.

"So, I heard you got into some trouble today, mind telling me what happened?" He asked. Michael looked at him.

"Folks makin' fun of a 'damn injun', nuttin' more." Michael said, imitating Mack's Southern drawl.

"You sound like you're from Texas," Mack commented.

"You sound like you're from Alabama," Michael retorted. There was silence for about five seconds. Then they both started laughing as Michael slammed the table.

"Ah," Michael said, shaking his head.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were doing a bit of psychology on me," Mack said.

"Nah, I'm just a bit ticked at my predicament, right now." Michael said, sighing.

"Seriously, why aren't my parents here? And why isn't a detective grilling me L&O style or doing the good cop, bad cop routine?" Michael asked.

"Well, there are some folks from Social Services who-" Michael's jaw dropped as Mack spoke.

"think that you may be suffering some problems at home,"

"Oh, well let's see- I'm home-schooled, so I don't have that much of a great education , save that from what my parents give me to read, my 'Net access is pretty much restricted as I'm nine-years-old, I so much as step into the limits of Utgard and some jackass is calling me a 'damn injun' behind my back or even insulting parentage." Michael counted with his fingers.

"Seriously, why do your parents homeschool you? Why not public school? You seem like a pretty smart fella'." Michael personally wanted to say 'Smart is an understatement' but bit his pride and shrugged.

"Eh, comes with my Mom being a nurse, my Dad and Grandad both being former Marines." Michael said.

"Oorah," Mack said.

"Damn straight," Michael said, then realized his mistake.

"Don't tell my Mom," He said, pointing at him. Mack grinned.

"Not a word," He said, gesturing for a zipper across his mouth.

"Still, let's not beat around the bush." Michael said.

"You're being used as an interrogation tool to lower my guard. You have the footage: you know what happened." Michael said. Mack sighed, though he didn't have real emotions.

"That obvious, huh?" Mack said.

"You really are a smart cookie," Mack said, grinning. He disappeared. Michael sighed. So what the hell was this about. It couldn't have been something for today... except... He frowned as he thought.

He hadn't searched anything illegal... but he did research some very important people if he could get away with it: let's see, there had been Dr. Catherine Halsey who was one of the youngest doctors in medicine and science. She grew up on Endymion, graduated from Endymion Gifted, went to Circumstance's Koletre-Browning University( Dean of Biological Sciences paid for education until 2507). At fifteen, she wrote her second or third Doctoral thesis paper (damn, he was nine and all he had to show for his shit was living an underground life for the past six years!) She had been a star pupil of a Vice Admiral of the UNSC Navy (A record in and of itself as the man was a Vice Admiral, a very high rank in the UNSCDF) The last anyone heard of her was that she had been hired as a consultant for the Navy... which department wasn't specified. He had to wonder if she was w- He paused as he realized just who the female presence was on the other side of the room.

"No fucking way," He whispered, chuckling to himself. There was no fucking way! Dr. Catherine Halsey herself?! Right outside?!. He straightened up as soon as he saw the door open. A tall beautiful woman (But not as beautiful as Mom) walked in with a blue skirt that went down to her ankles, a cream-colored jacket and a cream-colored top. She had black hair that was short and down to her neck. Her eyes were blue like his (But he was pretty sure that this celebrated scientist was definitely NOT his mother). She was about an inch shorter than him, surprisingly as he was pretty big for a nine-year-old.

He stood up and extended his hand.

"Ma'am," he said, shaking her hand.

"Hello," she said, smiling. Her teeth were white. They sat down.

"What brings you here, ma'am? Surely, it's not over me." He said, pointing to himself. She tilted her head.

"What makes you say that?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"To cut to the chase, ma'am. I know who you are. Sorry for being rude." he said.

"You're Dr. Catherine Halsey, graduate of the K-B University over on Circumstance. Last the 'Net had about you was that you work as a consultant for the Navy and not much else." He explained. She looked at him, nodding.

"You're smart," she said. He shrugged.

"I did read one or two of your dissertations two days ago... really interesting stuff, but sadly-" He shrugged.

"Not my forte. I've always been more of a military-strategy-history kind of person... though I do have a knack as a bit of a diplomat when it comes to certain games." Michael shrugged.

"Nine years old and you're talking like someone a lot older," She said.

"Or should I say 'six'?" she asked. Michael made a stony face.

"I've got no clue as to-"

"Don't lie, I work with people whose business it is to find out who lies, kid." She said, leaning forward.

"Six years ago, an anomaly was detected over the atmosphere of Harvest." She began. He folded his arms.

"I'm familiar with that bit of local history. Researchers from all over came and found no evidence save that of the camera footage from nearby satelites and the Tiara in orbit. Case closed. It was a random event, nothing more."

"But, I do assume you've heard that it was a possible 'slipspace' event?" Halsey asked, raising an eyebrow. His gut started to twitch and a pit started to form.

"Nothing came out," He stated again.

"And Slipspace doesn't look like what anyone saw on the footage,"

"About three months later, a search team found a sort of pod in the forest west of here... funny how it's near your family's ranch." She said. Michael frowned. What the hell was she saying? Michael's fists tightened as he crossed his arms.

"That has nothing to do with my family," He said, angrily. His voice was becoming deeper, both of them noticed. Far deeper than a nine-year-old's should be.

"The pod was of unknown origin, the materials are so advanced that current technology is not able to replicate it. But, what was interesting was that it was clearly of human design." She said. She produced a small holoprojector and an image popped up. He saw it: a pod that was rectangular, with a glass lid. On the top was the Roman numeral II.

Artyr felt his head start to become dizzy and he clutched it and then bolted upright as a sharp jolt hit him.

 _He felt himself float in a liquid ocean, or what he considered an ocean as he looked around him. His window to the outside was the barrier between him and everything else. He looked outside, seeing pods around him in a circle. Each one labeled with a numeral: I, III, IV and so on and so forth until it reached XX. The area around the pods looked strange, nothing that he had known for the time of his brief existence. Just then, he saw something massive approach him, like a big bear coming to inspect her cubs. The figure looked down at him and crouched. He couldn't make out the face that he saw but the being's aura was that of good, light, and even love as well as order._

 _+++There, there, II. When you're bigger, you'll be out and about in no time!+++ He heard a strange voice in his head. It was calm, paternal, and gentle. Who or what was this thing? Was it his creator?_

 _+++When you grow up, we'll have plenty of time to get to know eachother. You all will+++ The thing said and then left._

 _+++I will be back soon, my sons. I promise+++ The figure said in his mind. He looked around and saw two pairs of eyes looking back at him along with many eyes. He put his small hand on the lid and blinked. The others put their hands on their barriers and blinked as well. Just then, something inexplicable happened. A sudden burst of light and something maddening happened._

 _He felt his small home come up from its moorings and he was shaken as he was inside his home. He felt another pod hit his lightly, but it was enough for a crack... a crack as he traveled through some kind of maddening light of colors that shouldn't have existed. It didn't feel a twinge of fear as it felt something enter its home and somehow... alter him... he didn't know how it did, but he did know that it did so and then. As it traveled in what appeared to be a tunnel of some kind, it saw its kindred disappear right in front of it._

 _Where did they go? Would they meet at their destination? Then, the tunnel stopped and he felt himself lurch into something... strange. It saw a black void outside that was lit by many lights in the distance. It also saw some kind of metal thing in the distance._

 _He felt his home start to go 'down' and then heard something through the metal walls of its home as it sped towards its final destination. He felt a sickening thump and his home crash-landed somewhere. Around him he could see green and brown things everywhere. Then, after a few minutes, he saw strangers appear. Who and what were these strange beings?_

 _Michael then snapped back into reality as he felt a hand touch him._

 _"Michael, are you_ alright?" He heard Dr. Halsey ask, her soothing voice taking him out. He blinked and shook his head.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." He said, rubbing his eyes.

 _'That's the fifth one I've had this month. Something's up with me... what the hell is it?'_ Michael wondered.

"You looked as if you remembered something... like a flashback." Halsey said. Michael looked up at her and scoffed.

"Yeah, right." He lied. Halsey frowned.

"I'm here to offer you something... something very much needed and important to us all." Halsey stated. Michael looked at her.

"What are you offering?"

"Your father and grandfather are former Marines, correct?" He nodded.

"I am not aware of the specifics, but I do know that they were awarded low-ranking medals." Michael said. He realized where this was going. He looked at her and folded his hands.

"You're offering me a way to join the military," He said aloud. SHe nodded, smiling.

"But," Michael said, laughing briefly.

"That's not possible. There are child labor laws and-" He sighed and shook his head. Of course!

"The Insurrection," He sighed.

"Exactly. It's gotten so big that we need certain people like you who can help us win this war," She said.

"You started something after Carver published the findings, didn't you?" He said, tilting his head.

"We can't risk large-scale military operations in the Outer Colonies." Halsey said, nodding.

"Such a thing would further destabilize the Outer Colonies, leading to a big Colonial Civil War between Outer and Inner Colonial regions." he said, realizing.

"Hence, the project I'm doing. You're one of the few that know this." Halsey said.

"So, why are you picking me?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Do you recall an incident three years ago? It was a terrorist shooting in the Utgard Mall." She said. Michael nodded.

"Yeah, I remember. My family and I were there when it happened. Mom and Dad barely got out alive and I-" He paused as the memory came back to him.

He recalled how they had been about to walk into a store when the shooting started. It was about six Innies that somehow made it past the security in the elevator. They tore through the mall with LMGs and MA5B assault rifles. Dad had been adamant about getting Mom and him to safety... but he disobeyed Dad. He went off on his own to face down the terrorists, at the age of three years old while looking like he was six. He remembered running as fast as a lightning bolt and sucker-punching a man that wielded an LMG in the stomach while at the same time taking out his sidearm. The punch had happened so fast and so hard, the man flew from the second level they were on to the ground floor, breakin his neck on impact.

It didn't matter to him as he felt like he was called to fight, called to action against this threat against his family. He recalled feeling a brief sense of pain as something pierced his hand: a trio of bullets that missed his bones, but pierced his hands and came out cleanly. He recalled looking up and took out the would-be assailant and then taking his MA5B. With that, he killed the other three with quick, short, accurate, and concise bursts of ammo.

Almost no one had been around as the terrorists struck as they all either fled or died save Mom and Dad. He remembered Mom worrying about his hand, but he brushed it off. It was his first and only combat wound. But, still. The memory of the battle was.. invigorating and adrenaline-pumping: being in that situation at such a young age.

That was when he realized the mistake. When his hand had been pierced, blood came out: his blood.

"You found out through my blood," Michael realized. She nodded.

"We knew that your parents had made false documents about your birth afterwards, but decided not to pursue criminal charges as your father did serve the UNSC well during his time in the Corps." Halsey told him.

"We tested your blood against everyone in Harvest, but found nothing. As for everywhere else, you literally have no relatives alive here." Halsey told him.

"You're a very special case, Michael." She told him.

"Your blood is of a brighter shade of red than anyone else's. That means that you can breathe in thinner atmospheres. Not only that, but not once have you ever gotten a flue shot or a vaccine in any medical records... while not catching so much as the sniffles." Halsey said. Michael sighed.

She then stood up as she raised a finger and looked at a device. She nodded and looked back at him.

"I have a proposition for you, Michael. Unfortunately, you may not have much of a choice in the matter." She told him, flatly. Michael tilted his head.

"As we've discussed before, I would like you to be a part of a... 'group' I'm building," She said.

"It's a very special group of children," She said. Michael saw where this was going.

"Other kids... like me?" He said, pointing to himself.

"That... remains to be determined," Halsey said with a bit of hesitation. Michael frowned. Just when he thought he wasn't the only kid in the universe who was aging faster than normal. He was also getting bigger, he didn't know when he was going to stop. He considered his options. Right now, Dr. Halsey, one of the most celebrated scientists of the 26th Century... was involved in something which also involved kids and the Insurrectionists. He instantly made the connection as soon as he thought about it. He wanted to swear.

To fight the Insurrectionists... she was going to make child-soldiers... with him as the first subject. He was as smart as an adult, so he was obviously the first choice. Or was he? Were there other candidates he didn't know about?

"You seem to be deep in thought," She commented. He looked up at her.

"You'd be doing humanity a great favor, but it's not without sacrifice." She told him with a serious look.

"You're asking me to take part in something unethical. You're risking jail-time for this and the kids that are in the project are going to have some deep scars." He told her.

"It's worth it: what would you rather have? A full-scale war with the Insurrection? Or take a chance and cut it out, piece-by-piece?" She asked him. He shook his head.

"What about my family? Mom, Dad, and Grandpa?" he asked.

"You'll be flash-cloned, they won't know the difference." At this, Michael closed his eyes.

"By our ancestors, Halsey." He whispered, imagining Mom's laments as she buried a body that was a clone of her son's.

"I want them kept safe from all this... ya' hear?" He told her, leaning forward.

"You're the only one I'm talking to that actually has an idea of what's going on, despite your age. Of course, we'll make sure they're kept in the dark about it." She told him.

"and the others? The other kids?" He asked, gulping at the last question.

"They'll be handpicked. Each of you has certain genetic markers. The class will be around a hundred and fifty." She told him.

"So, what number am I?"

"You're candidate number 2," She told him. He scoffed. Just like the pod.

"Alright... I'm in... but I'm telling you right now, Doc." Michael told her, leaning forward.

"We better be doing this for the right reason. Because if it turns out we're not: I'm pulling a Spartacus on your ass." He told her. She looked at him.

"You're aware that Spartacus and his rebellion failed and every last captured slave was crucified along the Appian Way to Rome?" She asked.

"Do you still get the message?" He asked her, his voice becoming angry. she nodded.

"I look forward to having you on the team," she smiled. She extended her hand.

"Welcome to the grown-up world, Michael." She said. He shook it, but he didn't feel so welcome. If anything, he felt alone.

"When can I expect to be taken?" he asked.

"A month from now, we're taking the other children as well." She told him.

"See you in a month, ma'am." he said, nodding. She stood up.

"It was nice talking with you, Michael. I hope we have some good conversations over the next seven years," She told him. He nodded at this.

"Sure," He said, quietly and then sighed.

XXXX

Catherine Halsey walked out of the room and sighed.

"Damn," she whispered, shaking her head.

"That was..." She scoffed as she walked alongside Jacob Keyes.

"Amazing," He said.

"He spoke like an adult, even though he's about nin-"

"Six," she corrected him as they walked down the halls.

"He's six years old and he already has the IQ of an adult. Just how in the hell does that happen?" She thought aloud.

"Think he read up on me?" Keyes asked in a half-joking manner. Halsey scoffed.

"I sincerely doubt it, unless he's into accidents involving plasma burns." She told him, flatly. Keyes grumbled as he rubbed his hands at a grim memory.

"The implants we're working on are for adolescents, but looking at 002's blood-" She said, referring to his candidate number.

"He's entirely something else... human, yeah... but.." She shook her head.

"We're going to have to examine him," She thought aloud.

"Not like, vivisect him, right?" Keyes asked, a bit worried. . She shook her head.

"No, I've been getting this feeling ever since I saw that pod he was in." Halsey confessed as they left the station.

"Someone made him," She told Keyes. she stopped. Why in the hell was she telling him this? This was for private study, not for someone else. She sighed.

"Never mind that last bit, forget I said anything." she said.

'Someone made him for something. The questions for this are: Who made Michael? Where was he created? Why was he created? And more importantly: if Michael's pod was labeled 'II', then that meant there were others like Michael somewhere. Where were they? Would they be a threat? Not only that, but was Michael's creator(s) going to come looking for their lost project?


	4. Chapter 4: Taken

**Chapter 4**

 _May 3, 2517_

 _Soaring Hawk Residence,_

 _25 miles west of Utgard_

 _Harvest_

 _Epsilon Ipsi System_

 _Human space_

Jacob Soaring Hawk coughed as he drove back to the family home. He pulled up in the driveway.

"Dad, you really need to get that cough checked out." His son, Christopher, told him worried.

"He's right, old man. Either you get help, or we lose the one old man we can turn to for guidance." Susanne said from the back of the pick-up truck. Jacob grunted in response. His silver hair had gone whiter since they found Michael.

The tribal elders had clearly told them to stay away from the village as Michael was most definitely the strangest thing. He wanted to swear and rage at those fuckers. Forty-years ago, he had given his twenty years to the UNSC Marines as a way to show his people that times had changed. The White Man wasn't as bad as people believed anymore. Nobody cared what race one was so long as you did your part and duty for mankind.

The shaman then, the current shaman's late mother, had banished him the second he stepped out of his car to see the village. They let his wife and his son, Chris, be joined to the village, but not him. They wouldn't let him see his son for so long. Then, his kid went off and joined the Marines.

He had seen his share of fighting, witnessing the horrors of the Insurrection. He had come out with his own scars, just like him. Now, it appeared to be little Michael's turn. Only, he wasn't 'little'. All had noticed how big he had grown in the past six years. He was growing too damned fast, faster than any normal child. He was 5'8. Most kids would be around four feet high. He was also buff, like he'd been working out. They had also noticed that not once had his ribs ever shown. It was like they were fused together.

They were afraid to take him to the hospital to get checked out for fear of the possibility that ONI would take him away. He shivered. He had seen what they could do. The way they interrogated prisoners, played with their heads was downright liable for human rights violations... all in the name of 'national security'.

They arrived at the house's dirt driveway. He sighed. They got out of the truck.

Susanne followed, a bit slower, than usual. Earlier, on the way to Soaring Hawk village, she had started having a worried look. Both the men had asked her about it, but she had been adamant that she was fine. She didn't look fine.

Susanne was the first to the door. Jacob sighed. Ever since his son and he had brought him home that day, she had doted on the boy, though even the boy found that embarrassing.

"Michael!" She called as she entered the dark house without even turning on the lights. Jacob looked at it before entering. It was a two story house that he had bought from the son of a rancher here who lost his parents due to a severe case of fever. He had bought it at a good price. In the daylight, it was painted green with four windows out front, two on both sides and four windows out back with a backdoor.

"She's been acting funny since that night we took him to the shaman," Christopher said. Jacob looked at him.

"I've noticed, son. You've been saying that since it happened." The father told his son. He stood over his son like that of a bear over a much shorter bear.

"I'm serious!" Christopher hissed.

"She touched the shaman and she saw something. Her eyes rolled back into her head!" He emphasized the last bit.

"That's something we shouldn't ask her. It was her business," The father told the son, frowning. The night sky over them all as witnesses.

"I can see you're worried about your wife and son, kid." Chris said, putting a hand on his son's shoulder.

"But, I'm telling you now: leave it alone. We'll all get answers someday. Perhaps not now." Christopher said. He would come to regret that last sentence.

All of a sudden, they heard screaming from inside the house. Both men turned in shock at what was heard.

 _"MY BABY!"_ They bolted into the house and stormed up the stairs as she screamed. The lights for Michael's room were on. They walked in to see Susanna crying over Michael as he lay in his bed.

Christopher walked over to her to see what she was crying about. Chris gasped.

"My god," He whispered, shaking his head. Jacob went over, slowly, unsure of what he would find. He swore and stepped back.

What lay in the bed, though in the same jammies that he had worn, was definitely not Michael. It was some kind of sick joke, some sick mockery of him.

The thing's skin was blue and deformed. Its eyes were malaligned and its arms were freakishly huge.

"What the fuck?!" Jacob breathed. He shook his head. This didn't make any sense?! What the hell happened?! He had been fine when they left home over two or three hours ago! What the fuck happened?!

"This isn't him!" Susanna sobbed, angrily. Chris, his son, put an arm over his wife as she wept. She pushed it away and stood up.

"Look at his left hand! He had a scar on his left hand from where it got shot!" She shouted. Jacob and Chris looked at her in confusion and then looked at the thing's left hand. Both men swore. The two men made a very angry and sour look.

Someone had taken their son and stolen him from them. That same person left this mockery of a corpse in their very house... in their kinsman's very bed! Jacob fumed angrily. The sheer madness and evil of this act. He looked at the boy's bookstand and saw the fabled war hatchet of their ancestor. He grabbed it and looked at it. He tested its sharpness, feeling the blade cut his skin and make his thumb bleed.

Christopher watched and nodded with an angry look. In times like this, tradition had to be followed.

In the days before space travel, before even airplanes took flight, the Natives of North America warred against the descendants of European colonists that were under the banner of the old United States of America. Whereas they waged war with muskets and cannons, the Native tribes and clans fought with bows, spears, daggers, and hatchets. The amount of death and destruction was terrible. Whole tribes were slaughtered, women were raped and children were murdered or taken to American schools for assimilation. The so-called 'Indian Wars' ended when the last rebellious chief of a large tribe had signed a treaty with the US Government. And the European colonists' descendants exploited this to their advantage, forcing them onto reservations that were too small.

A tradition from those days, when the Soaring Hawk clan was part of the now-extinct Asanagu tribe, a small tribe in what was now Southeast Kansas, when war or a wrong was done against a clan or the tribe, the head of the tribe or clan took his or her hatchet, cut his hand, spilling blood on the ground before his grasshouse and then wiped his blood on the outside entrance of his family's dwelling as a sign that wrong had been done. There were two ways when that smear on the entrance was gone: painted over or burned by an enemy.

Jacob went outside of his house and cut a bloody line through his palm. He took his bloody hand and wiped it on the sides of the doorpost to his house and the top of it. He also put blood on the ground as well. Blood dripped down to the ground.

He looked up at the starryr night sky and screamed a rage-filled scream that he prayed reached his ancestors in the Land of the Ancestors.

 _"STORM RIDER! SON OF BLASTING THUNDER! LAST SON OF THE SOARING HAWK CLAN AND OUR ANCESTOR! HEAR ME AND WITNESS!"_ He roared at the night sky in anger as he invoked his long-dead ancestor.

 _"WRONG HAS BEEN DONE TO MY HOUSE AGAIN BY WHOM I KNOW NOT! I CALL UPON THY AID TO FULFILL THIS OATH! I SWEAR THAT THOSE WHO TOOK MY SON SHALL FEEL MY WRATH! LET THEIR SORROWS BE MANY! THEIR WIVES BE BARREN! THEIR CHILDREN SUFFER AS MINE OWN_ HAVE!" He swore, raising his bloody left hand as it still dripped in blood. His daughter-in-law and son went outside. Her daughter saw what he did in horror, having been raised in Christianity by her parents who abandoned their ancestral ways, as did their forefathers, though they kept a few aspects of their old culture. She had never known the clan that she married into could be so bloody. She looked at the old man in fear as he swore further in the Asanagu tribe's dying tongue.

 _"MAY OUR ENEMIES SUFFER UNTIL MY GRANDSON, YOUR DESCENDANT RETURNS HOME TO MY FAMILY! DEAD OR ALIVE!"_ He shouted.

 _"I SWEAR BY ALL WHO HAVE LIVED BEFORE ME THAT I AND MY SON SHALL FIND HIM UNTIL HE HAS COME HOME! MAY NONE STAND BEFORE US AS WE SEEK OUR OWN! MAY ALL WHO STAND BEFORE US DIE!"_ He spat with venom as he shook.

Christopher fumed as he watched the old man. His adopted son had been taken and replaced by a cheap mockery. Whoever did this would suffer death or worse for this

* * *

 _Ares City_

 _Mars_

 _Sol System_

 _Human Colonies_

Sol set in the distance, making Ares City shine in the dying light. Mostly it was glass and an advanced form of concrete along with metal spires and what have you. Shah Aslan smiled as he sipped his coffee. He recalled how in another life and another time as well as another dimension, Mars had been one of the many worlds that produced his weapons of war and industry. Mars, before it was ruled by the Adeptus Mechanicus, or then- Martian Mechanicum, it had been terraformed as well with the aid of certain machines. When the terror of Old Night had hit, Mars became once again a barren place of sand, forcing the survivors to turn into the machine cultists that worshipped technology to repair and rebuild. Mars became a mighty technological and industrial empire with vast deserts, though. Olympus Mons became one of the great volcanic forges to make the mighty Titan war machines that would tower over any building in this city and put them to sheer shame.

Of course, if this reality was like the old reality, Mars would be again an industrial and technological powerhouse, having orbital plates and a vast ring in orbit that was a shipyard and a mighty defense system that kept out intruders.. though, it would be devastated. That is, if he was still in this reality and _if_ everything happened again. He was pretty sure it wouldn't though he was a fragment.

He sighed.

So much time had passed since he, a fragment of the mind, memories, and power of the Original Emperor, had been reborn ten thousand years ago in Anatolia, former Turkey of Earth. He had to go through ancient human history all over again, though having little-to-no memories of what happened as he was shattered during the final battle with Horus Lupercal... his lost son.

He shook his head and put a hand over it as he sat back down.

 _"Horus,"_ He whispered. He had been forced to kill his best and brightest pupil, his greatest son whom had been corrupted by the wiles of Chaos! He gritted his teeth. Damn the Dark Gods! Damn them! He wanted to scream and shout at the Warp though here it was calm. But, he didn't do it as he didn't want the Ruinous Powers to put their filthy footsteps in this reality. One reality had been devastated by the four false gods. He would not have that happen again!

He then heard a beeping noise in his ear. He sighed. He tapped it as he spun his chair to turn towards his terminal.

"This is Shah Aslan, how can I help you?" He asked, his customary greeting in a respectful and cheering tone.

"Boss, it's me." A rough voice said, the electronics crackling in his ear. Aslan sighed as he facepalmed.

"Jordan... what did you do this time?" He asked, shaking his head. He loved humanity as he was once its rulers... but aspects of humanity tended to annoy him. Jordan was one of those aspects.

"Boss, I didn't do anything bad, but I can't speak about it here." Jordan said, his voice crackling in his ear. Aslan blinked and then realized what he was inferring.

"Alright, meet me at the usual spot." He told his subordinate. He tapped it, the call ended. He then stood up and put his black great coat over him. It was winter on Mars. Snow didn't fall, but it did get cold. Aspects of before it was terraformed still held on for dear life. He walked out of his office. He looked around, seeing his subordinates and partners work fervently on cases. He smiled.

It had taken a long time to get this up. In fact, if he was correct, he did this sort of thing back in his home reality before he founded the Imperium, before the sufferings of Old Night. It was how he fought his secret war with Chaos.

He then had a bit of a trip out of the building. The security guard at the front desk greeted him.

"How's it going, Shah? Shouldn't you be leading Iran?" The guard said, jokingly. Aslan smirked as it was said.

"And deal with the Revolutionary Guards? I think not!" He called back as he turned to face him while walking. It was a bit of a joke between them as they both knew their history, though one knew it better than the other. The two laughed as they walked away. Aslan knew for a fact that the former nation of Iran had not had political leader in around four centuries after the war in 2169 when the UN gained massive strength and power. There had been those who resisted... they didn't last long. Resistance was pacified and and the world for the first time... had not a single war waged on it for nearly four hundred years.

Aslan Shah was happy about humanity finally united for the first time in its history in this reality, but there were always problems of disease and the war with the Insurrection. Shah shook his head. Those fools! If they knew what he knew, they'd stick to the UNSC like bear cubs to their mother! He gritted his teeth, his anger showing as he thought about the alien threats he had faced and the betrayals he witnessed.

He remembered the pacts of friendship that he had witnessed behind the scenes back home, only to later discover that they had been deliberately broken with glee and the humans enslaved or worse! He took pleasure in wiping them off the map, them and their whole damned species! He had loved it as his sons massacred the xenos filth! Killing whole populations for the mere crime of being alien! They had been humanity's friends and they betrayed them, the curs! And then, there was the eldar, those arrogant p-

The most powerful psyker in human history stopped for a moment, realizing what he was getting into. He sighed and took a deep breath as thunderclouds formed over the city with people looking up in awe. He took a deep breath and tried to relax himself before walking again. The storm clouds overhead dissipated.

He sighed. He had tried to control his anger ever since he was a child in this universe and even back in his home reality. He had witnessed terrible things in his two lives. And thinking about them made him so damned angry and violent at times. It was one of the reasons why he never married or fathered children in this new lifetime. He didn't want to run the risk of being an abusive father. He didn't want anyone to know about his dark side. Not even his own sons.

Aslan recalled what the last priest on his old reality's Earth had told him before a brick from the collapsing church crushed him. Those words haunted him ever still in the back of his mind.

The fragmented Emperor-turned-PI caught a cab to the usual spot that he met Jordan. The cab dropped him off in the west side of town. It was one of the newer sections of the city, a place called Weirton, after the 21st century science fiction author Andy Weir. There had been talks in the days of founding Ares city about calling it 'Weir City' but sadly, they died as they wanted the name of the city to reflect Mars. Which sucked, as Aslan preferred places to be named after people that were prominent and famous not just for their achievements, but for their virtues as well.

The fragment found himself on a city street surrounded by a variety of shops after leaving the cab. People were heading indoors, not wanting to be in the cold. The Emperor smiled.

He watched a family of five walk into a pizza parlor after what appeared to be an indoor hockey ring from that hockey place back in the eastern part of the place. The Emperor smiled. This was what life must've been like for certain families before everything that happened to this world... before the Dark Age of Technology, the Age of Strife all of it. He sadly couldn't remember the Dark Age of Technology, but he did remember the Age of Strife and afterwards.

He then remembered what Mars would turn into much later. Pizza parlors would be gone. Almost every creature comfort that humanity knew would be gone: pizza, hamburgers, video games, that sort of thing: all gone. An age of barbarism would come that would last milennia. And he would be there to pick up the pieces. But, life would still be hell for most people.

He sensed for Jordan and found him in a bar opposite of the pizza place. Aslan scoffed. You had to be kidding! He preferred a finer dining place than a bar. For Aslan, bars reminded him too much of old Wild West Saloons in which if one made the slightest mistake as they walked inside, he would be killed.

He didn't need a gun as he was one of the most powerful, if not the only, psyker in this reality. He walked in, smelling the cigarette smoke and beer, along with buffalo wings and other such things. He walked in and found Jordan way in the back booth. His gray eyes were tired from traveling from Harvest. He wore a dusty rancher's jacket and cowboy boots. He wore a stained brown shirt with work gloves on the counter. He had messy brown hair and a goatee to match.

"Boss," He said, nodding as he chowed down on a hamburger. Aslan sighed and put his coat in the seat opposite of Jordan.

"You wouldn't come back here unless it was very important," Aslan said as a waitress came over. He ordered a Porter house steak with vegetables for sides. He then continued with the waitress out of earshot. What have you discovered on Harvest?" Aslan asked. He then raised a finger and then made a telepathic link between the two of them.

 _+++What happened on Harvest? Don't speak out loud, just think of it. I would rather have it said in your mind as opposed to be out loud. Your old employers may be listening as we speak.+++_ Aslan mentally said. Jordan's eyes widened and he sighed.

 _+++I'm not going to get used to this.+++_ Jordan thought.

 _+++Most never do+++_ Aslan said, smiling.

 _+++ You've got to tell me how you can do that, though. I mean, how many others know about your secret?+++_ Jordan asked. Aslan gave him a look.

 _+++That is my concern, not yours+++_ He said, flatly. Jordan nodded, making a calm down gesture.

 _+++Okay, so get this: I'm in Harvest right? Looking around to see if there was anything about a pod from like, six-seven years ago?+++_ Jordan began, his eyes and head making movements as he spoke.

 _+++I ran into an old buddy of mine from back when I worked for ONI+++_ Jordan said. Aslan raised an eyebrow.

+++Relax, he didn't rat me out!+++ Jordan said, making another gesture. Aslan sighed.

He recruited Jordan Keller straight from ONI as he was one a low-level investigator ONI had, going after mainly Insurrectionists and renegade military personnel. He had a drug problem in those days though and while high, had confessed some kind of interrogation he had done to a girl he thought was a prostitute, but wound up being an Insurrectionist. Said girl sent the Innies after him and ONI found out sending their people after him. He had been in Epsilon Eridanus II back then. Aslan found him along with members of his company and offered him a job, along with rehab and expunged his record and crimes. No one that was aligned with Aslan knew what happened to both the Insurrectionist cell that was after Jordan or the ONI team sent after him... save Aslan himself. Burnt ashes were found at both of their hangouts/ headquarters and any and all recordings were irreversibly deleted. Certain ONI officers had been reported AWOL as well.

With his drug habit kicked, and his pride and arrogance from those days completely gone, Jordan was now more of an annoyance than before being in Aslan's employ. Aslan had kept tabs on him, to see if he had really kicked the habit. The worst vice that Aslan discovered had been Keller's sexually immature lifestyle.

 _+++ I don't think he heard about what happened on Eridanus II, I swear!+++_ Jordan pleaded.

+++Go on+++ Aslan gestured with his hand.

+++Okay, so, the guy is one of the people in our line of work that do acquisitions for certain test subjects in some projects that we do, right?+++ Keller told him, leaning forward. He set his burger down and swallowed a bite.

+++Some real nasty shit you may or may not have heard about: Chemical and Biological weapons testing, for one. +++ Keller had a serious look as he spoke about it. He shivered.

 _+++I told him I left the business for the private sector as a PI, y'know, the truth and we got to talking about what was going on+++_ He continued.

 _+++I ask him what he's doing on Harvest for? So he tells me 'Can't say nothing,'+++_ Keller said.

 _+++And?+++_

 _+++That's it!+++_ Keller told him. Aslan blinked and shook his head. Keller sighed and scratched the back of his head.

 _+++I'm sorry, I just had to tell you about this+++_

 _+++ I told you to come to me directly when you have news about a specially made pod with either a 'II' or an 'XI' on the top or about a man that's about four stories tall that can do-+++_ Aslan said, his mental voice slightly rising. Keller gulped.

"B-" He started to say.

 _+++Boss, that's all I've got! Something happened over on Harvest that made the acquisition guys come in! That's all I know!+++_

Aslan thought for a moment.

 _+++Was there anything detected six years ago in Harvest orbit? A 'slipspace event' that you know of?+++_ The fragment asked. Keller shook his head.

 _+++No, that's above my paygrade or it got compartmentalized. I don't know crap about it... but-+++_ Keller tapped his jaw in thought. His eyes widened.

Images of reports of a shooting appeared in both men's minds.

 _+++There was a shooting three years ago on Harvest. An Innie cell of six attacked Utgard Mall and got slaughtered by a bystander there.+++_ Keller told him. Aslan blinked.

'Three years ago?!'

Keller realized his mistake. He then had to tell what he knew of that incident. Aslan looked at him.

 _+++It was a boy? Not a man?+++_ The one-time Emperor asked for reassurance. He cancelled the connection right as the ex-ONI man responded. Aslan looked away in thought.

'One of my sons was on Harvest... this whole time? And he was still a child at the age of three? Something's not right' The former Emperor thought. All primarchs were adults by the age of one year on all of their homeworlds. Something happened with that Primarch's pod while in transit through the Warp...

"A crack," He muttered, shaking his head. The Chaos Gods got to his son through a crack that ocurred during the event. He shook his head. And now, the boy's growth was stunted. What else was wrong with him?! Aslan pounded the table with his fist making said table flip with one end going down and the other end with their food going to the floor.

Keller looked at him in horror as everyone else looked at the table. Aslan stood up, his face an unreadable expression. He stood up.

 _+++Get back to Harvest and meet us there. I must prepare for a very long trip.+++_ The Emperor thought-said. Keller nodded and scurried out of the bar, not asking about the 'us' part. The Emperor looked around and his eyes glowed, using what power he could use to erase everyone's minds. Everyone blinked and started looking around, dazed and confused.

After that, he paid the owner for his troubles and then got a hold of the camera footage on the bar's surveilance system. He erased the full conversation between him and Jordan, having it loop. He then left to begin preparations.

His mind was full of thoughts.

His son was on Harvest... or rather had been. Someone from ONI was involved. He could go after ONI with all he had, having enough secrets and agents of his own that they didn't know about to strike at them until he could get what he wanted. But, first, he had to learn the boy's identity. And so, whomever took him had a bit of a head start... but he would catch up. And when he did, he'd make ONI pay for taking what was rightfully his... in a very unpleasant manner for their insolence and arrogance.


	5. Chapter 5: Sleepless Experiment Part 1

Chapter 5

 _Reach_

 _Epsilon Eridani System_

 _Inner Colonies_

 _Human Space_

 _2517_

Dr. Catherine Halsey, . and M.D. looked at what she saw with interest. The image in front of her, about five days ago, had shocked her to the core.

It was an image of a skeletal structure combined with that of internal organs that were also scanned from outside Michael-002's body. What she saw was impossible: Two hearts, three lungs, a fused rib cage, a black material right underneath his whole skin, which too had been penetrated by x-ray scans. The material had also somehow grown inward and connected to Michael's central nervous system, connecting to his spine, neck and brain, two organs that were identical in appearance and nature were located in his neck and chest, along with an object twice the size of a thumbnail that was connected to his muscle tissue that was also divided into halves.

Other objects included two glands both identical in origin and size implanted into his mouth, another object implanted into his nervous system, along with another object that was implanted into said nervous system. There was something that was in his cranium that wasn't part of the neural tissue but had melted right into it, almost entirely part of it, though it the partial outline of it was still seen. There were others, numerous others inside of him.

"Unbelieveable," She said aloud. It was obvious he wasn't born naturally. He had been artificially made obviously. She had read the analysis of Michael's pod. It was taken to a location so secure and remote that not even she was sure if she or even Michael would see it again. It had been made of unknown and discovered materials that were undreamed of! There had been cables that had been connected to Michael at one point, but it was obvious that Michael had no need of them once his pod crash-landed on Harvest. It was no wonder that his adoptive parents did all they could to hide him away from ONI.

It had been a futile effort as soon as he started appearing in Utgard and elsewhere. The planetary AI Mack had contacted the local ONI agent on-site as no records of his adoptive mother had been found giving birth to a child. He had just shown up one day. Then, came the incident three years ago.

When she saw the footage, she saw a flash of what her creations could become as he slaughtered the Insurrectionist shooters at the age of three. Someone out there, beyond Reach, had the same idea as her and made it before her! She didn't know if she should be jealous or be begging to be that person's pupil, whomever he or she was.

The reason why Michael's muscles had to be because of the organ implanted into his muscular tissue, hence his unnatural size and bulk. There were ocular implants in his eyes that allowed him to see farther and in his ears that allowed him to hear farther than normal humans.

But, there were so many questions that were left unanswered: obviously: whom built Michael and where was this person? It was now obvious that Michael was created to be some kind of super-soldier before Halsey even conceived of the idea or perhaps around that time. If there were others like Michael, where were they? What was their fate? How many more were there?

She sighed. Michael was like a dream come true... but she had to hide that dream. She shook her head as she saw other windows on her holoscreen of the first class of Spartan-IIs training. All of them were six years old, like Michael, only they weren't like Michael. He was the only one of his kind.

Her superiors at ONI knew about Michael and were very interested in making more like him or perhaps, even harvesting whatever made Michael what he was and then use it to augment her Spartans. She wasn't superstitious as her parents were atheists... but she did have a very strong feeling that if they did such a thing... and whomever created Michael found out about it... there would be no telling of the consequences that would follow. She had a strong feeling, some kind of intuition maybe, that Michael's genetic parent was still out there somewhere, looking for him.

Halsey shook her head. She then brought up live feed of Michael's training. She saw the genetically-engineered boy do push-ups. He had a pretty regular training routine of exercise and lessons which Michael already knew apparently. He knew every story of every battle from ancient Greece and other ancient cultures to the Insurrection of today. She impressed Deja, though somewhat annoyed her as he saw through the sugar-coating of history that was for the regular trainees. Michael had also gone through certain training exercises that would've been impossible for the other trainees so early in their regimen.

What interested her as she looked at Michael's morning exercise was the reaction of his instructor: MCPO Juan Shang, a former member of the original ORION/ SPARTAN program. He was shaking his head in either disbelief, mockingly or something else. His arms were crossed and he had a blank expression as he stopped moving his head.

"Deja," Halsey asked.

"Yes, ma'am?" Deja said, appearing right beside her in a holoprojector.

"How long has Michael been doing push-ups?" The doctor asked, curious.

"He has been doing push-ups for the past hour. Total count: Two thousand, five hundred, and seven as of one second ago." Deja replied. Halsey blinked. Yep, that kid was something.

"Why is Michael doing nothing else?" She asked.

"Chief Shang told Michael to do as many as he could within an hour's timeframe for a reason he never said," Deja' replied. Halsey smiled.

He puts the old SPARTAN-Is to shame, she figured.

"Have Michael-002 come see me right away, I believe that we should have a talk about his sleeping habits..." Halsey said.

"Or lack thereof," she added, bringing up footage of Michael spending his first night alone in the barracks. He stood and sat in the sped up footage of the whole night until MCPO Shang walked in on his first day of training. Halsey looked at Michael in the sped up footage. He didn't want to sleep. She wanted to know why. Plus, she wanted to do a bit of an experiment. See how far it could go without seriously hurting him.

* * *

"Trainee, that is enough push-ups for today." Master Chief Sheng ordered. Michael stopped his push-ups and stood up at attention. He cracked his neck as he did so. At last count, he did two thousand, eight hundred and five. He could've gone to three thousand, all without breaking a sweat! He stood at attention to listen and obey.

"You have new orders," Chief Sheng told him. His voice was

"You are to report to sick bay for testing. That is all." The MCPO told him. Michael saluted.

"Aye, aye, sir!" Michael confirmed and fell out. The lights of the gym were bright like the sun. But there were no windows for sunlight. They had kept him in this facility since he came to Reach five days ago. Why he wasn't with the other trainees, he could only speculate as he hadn't talked to Halsey since he got here.

All she said was that he was to 'train here until he was ready'. And when exactly was he going to 'be ready'? She had told him that humanity needed him as a soldier. He jogged lightly over to the infirmary as he passed by support personnel: MPs, janitors, clerks, the occasional scientist like Professor Gab or Mike, and even the rare engineer that he came across from time to time.

He had learned his way in the span of five days as he was examined in the infirmary on his first day, went to the mess hall that same day and stayed up all night until he was taken to the gym for training. The gym being about the size of an Olympic stadium without any of the seats and bleachers. Seriously, how much in the budget for her department was Halsey given?! A trillion credits? Ten Trillion?! Stadiums like this would've bankrupted third world nations! Hell, first world economies would've suffered a major setback in terms of economics. Hell, after the Olympics were played- _no one_ played the Olympics in _any_ of those stadiums again!

Michael arrived at the infirmary and stood square in the center of the infirmary. It was as big as a hospital ward with strangely no one in sight save Dr. Halsey.

"Dr. Halsey, Trainee Michael-002 reporting as ordered!" Michael said, saluting. Halsey saluted back.

"At ease," She ordered. Michael did the position: his legs spread apart and his hands clasped behind his back.

"How've you been? How's training going?" She asked as soon as the doors behind him closed. Michael blinked.

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" He asked. She nodded.

"I'm fine, Doctor Halsey. I'm a bit miffed that I'm not with my brothers-in-arms." Michael said, honestly. She tilted her head. He looked at her.

"Doctor... why am I the only one here?" He asked, flatly. Dr. Halsey gritted his teeth.

"I'm afraid that I am going to have to keep you..." She was hesitant. Michael blinked.

"Doctor... you're hiding me...aren't you?" He asked for clarification. He realized why he was away from everyone else. The other kids were definitely not like were all regular boys and girls that weren't even remotely like him!

He inwardly sighed. Nevertheless, he had made a deal. And he would honor that deal to the very end... unless, Halsey was changing th terms and he was going to have to change it someway and somehow back to what it was before!

Halsey sighed.

"I need to keep you here. I believe that you would best serve humanity as a... test subject for now." Halsey said. Michael didn't break from his 'at ease' position. His expression said everything.

"I have my reasons, Michael." She told him, flatly. Michael nodded, disappointed that he would not begin training with the others.

"Now, I want you to sit in one of these beds," She told him. He nodded and fell out. He then sat in a bed. She then started hooking him up to various diagnostic machines.

Michael had a very blank expression on his face.

"Ma'am... why am I hooked up to all these machines?" He asked, looking at his now bare chest that was covered in diagnostic patches, along with his shaved head (once full of glorious short black hair that was messy) that was also covered by patches that somehow measured his brain.

"You haven't been sleeping for the past five days, I'd like to see how long you can stay up until you nearly go insane," Halsey told him. Michael frowned.

"A month," Michael told her. She looked at him

"I went without sleep for a whole month just to see if I could do it," He lied. In truth, he didn't always like to sleep as the visions he had also invaded his dreams as well.

"Well, I'll be the judge of that." She said, looking at him.

"Will I at the very least have company?" He asked.

"And how long will I be here?" He asked as well.

"You'll be here for about a month to verify your claims," She told him.

"In the meantime, yes, I will make sure you have at the very least someone to talk to during the day." She told him flatly.

Michael sighed.

"So, can you at the very least tell me why you haven't slept for five days?" she told him, crossing her arms. Michael frowned.

"So, you did notice." The super-soldier told her.

She nodded.

"You'd thought I didn't?"

"I personally thought you wouldn't care. Needless to say, this is the first time I've ever been so far away from home." He told her. The infirmary, from what he smelled, didn't smell like antiseptic,so it was rarely used.

"What can you tell me about yourself?" Halsey asked. Michael shrugged.

"What's there to tell, I'm sure ONI must've given you all the information despite my parents' attempt at hiding me from the galaxy." He told her.

"You looked like you saw something as I showed you the image of the pod you came in. Some kind of flashback?" She suggested.

"I saw nothing," Michael lied.

"Your eyes went into the back of your head," She said, flatly. He looked up at her in shock.

"I have the footage to prove it," She added. Her face showed a slight concern. Michael frowned.

"I had... some kind of vision, a memory if you will."

"A memory from being in the pod?" she asked.

"You were still in development, no infant can remember being born much less being in the womb." She told him.

"And yet, that pod was no mere womb." Michael told her. He told her about the memory, how he saw his creator, though hidden, and the other pods. Halsey's eyes widened.

"Amazing, you can remember that?" She asked, her eyes moving as thoughts raced into her head.

"And he spoke into your head? You're sure?" she asked. He nodded.

"What else?"

"The place we were in, I didn't pay much attention to: it was some kind of lab, but I do remember the other pods." He told her.

"How many?" She asked, quickly.

"Twenty," Michael said. She blinked.

"'Twenty?' There are twenty more of you?" She asked, amazed. Michael told her the moment when the babes in each made contact with eachother.

"So, you all were aware of eachother's existence back then," She said, shaking her head. It was clearly shaking her world to the core. What kind of science would allow that?

He then described the strange event that occurred, when the pods were all taken from their place and to somewhere else. What he described was definitely foreign to Halsey as he described how another pod struck his own, a crack appearing and how whatever took them then spat him back out into Harvest's orbit.

"In hindsight, I don't think the man whom created me wanted me and my..." Michael tried to find the right word.

"Kin to be scattered," He said, thoughtfully. His heart-rate on the monitor next to him slightly rose.

"It's almost as if some kind of force wanted us scattered... why, I don't know. Whatever it wass..." Michael said, thinking.

"It's something none of us can understand," He said.

There was silence as Halsey considered what Michael said.

"Have you had other such memories?"

"Well, no." Michael said, scratching his neck.

"But," He started to say and then went silent. She didn't need to know about anything else. About the dreams of war, death and destruction that he saw. He saw the deaths of so many worlds and peoples, monstrosities that would put the depictions of demons from the middle ages to shame, it was a hellish mixture of worlds that he knew and didn't even know about. It was as if he was seeing two very different realities.

In one reality, there men like him, but only taller. Men that had his kind of powers or lack thereof, who led armies that were in the tens of thousands, thier warriors diverse in terms of tactics and customs. Some were bloodthirsty killers, some were traitors to their brothers, others were noble and pure.

He recalled seeing fleets of massive ships that would put UNSC cruisers and carriers to sheer shame and their captains would've gone into a complete and utter depression upon seeing such grand vessels.

He recalled battles that laid waste to whole systems.

He even recalled something very, very strange: he saw, at times, someone he named 'The Golden Man' after a legend from the Asanagu tribe. He wore golden armor that shouldn't have allowed him to move, only for him to wear it with ease as he warred upon a thousand worlds. His black hair was past his neck and his sun-tanned face was that of someone from the former nation of Turkey. He had a very kind eyes that had countless crow's feet and yet still looked young.

"Michael, is there anything else you want to tell me?" Halsey asked. Michael looked up.

"No." He answered flatly. She didn't need to know... unless it concerned the other Spartans if she wanted to know. Besides, why on Earth would she believe in visions? From what he read, her family had been atheist and she herself also an atheist. Who wanted to believe a prophet?

* * *

Halsey looked at Michael. She didn't believe his answer as before he had said 'but-' and then paused, as though he had wanted to say something. It appeared he didn't want to spill the beans about something that he knew.

"You're sure?" She asked, tilting her head. He nodded.

"Yes, ma'am." Michael-002 said. She knew it was a lie. He would tell in a month, perhaps less.

"Very well," She said, nodding.

"I'll see you tomorrow. I'll make sure food is brought to you." She said, turning around and walking away.

"And my training?" He asked after her.

"We'll continue with it after the experiment is done," She said, walking away. As the doors closed behind her, a thought had hit her. She could've just had him not sleep at night and then train and study all day. She sighed.

"This is the result of four days of overworking," She muttered, shaking her head. Nevertheless, the experiment would continue for the next month.


	6. Chapter 6: Sleepless Experiment Part 2

**Chapter 6**

 _Reach_

 _Epsilon Eridani System_

 _Inner Colonies_

 _Human Space_

 _2517_

Master Chief Petty Officer Juan Sheng walked into the infirmary. He had been personally training Michael-002 for five days before Halsey began her experiment. He had argued against it (and failed) with her. Supersoldier or not, Michael was still just a kid. Having him stay up a whole month was a terrible idea and a recipe for disaster. What would the ONI brass do or say if they found out that the one kid who could be the project's ace in the hole (or a wildcard) turned insane and started wrecking the place? What good would that do?!

Not only that, but he had been talking privately with fellow SPARTAN-I and spacer Frank Mendez, also MCPO. The two men had been on the same team back during the old ORION days when they were younger... and before the whole KALEIDOSCOPE fiasco. He remembered being part of Johnson's team as he hesitated to take the shot that would've saved a lot more lives... a shot he never took as Byrne lost his whole team and then the whole project got shut down! Mendez and the others had to be sidelined as a result and the Insurrection took their abscence as an opportunity.

He recalled a conversation he had with Frank as he took a break from training the other Spartan 2.0s.

XXX

 _'That kid I'm training? He did close to three thousand push-ups, Frank! That shit ain't natural!' he told him as they sat in a mess hall for the instructors of the program. Frank had shook his head in disbelief._

 _'You always did tell tall tales,' He said right before Sheng had shown him the footage. The Sweet William cigar that was popular among the SPARTAN-Is fell out of Mendez's mouth as he saw it in shock and his eyes widened. Footage was also shown of Michael-002's laps around the gym. Two thousand laps in total._

 _"Are we sure Halsey didn't make this kid?" He had asked, looking at Sheng._

 _"Frank... you and I both know the story... or at least, what was told to us."_

 _"Not only that, but he's Hawk's kid!" Sheng hissed._

 _"And we both know how much Hawk wanted a kid," He added. Mendez sighed. Christopher Soaring Hawk had been a member of the program as well, in fact, the youngest guy in the program for about three years until a sniper's bullet penetrated his kidney and he wound up leaving the program on a medical discharge and the military as a result. They both hadn't known Chris had a kid until Halsey told both of them when she started doing the candidacy lists about two years before._

 _Both men saw the footage of what happened at Utgard Mall and swore up and down that it had to be some kind of ONI trick. There was no way that a six-year-old could do what Michael did and live! No way!_

 _"Well, speaking of Chris, I got bad news:" Mendez said, leaning forward._

 _"An old ONI friend of ours gave me a tip: he knows the boy got taken." Mendez said. Sheng blinked and leaned forward as though they were conspirators (which quite frankly, they were!)._

 _"How the hell did that happen?! The kid was flash-cloned!"_

 _"It didn't come out right," Mendez snapped. Sheng blinked._

 _"That's a one in a billion chance!" He commented._

 _"Yeah, well, a few guys did some digging up on the clone's grave: It was so deformed and ugly, it couldn't even pass for 002 if it wanted to. And get this: the outside of Chris's house's door frame was all painted with blood." Mendez emphasized the word. He gestured with his hands as he spoke._

 _"Their own or someone else's?" Sheng asked, a bit queasy. They'd seen blood and guts before having done a bunch of ops. But, one of their own having thier dwelling's outside painted with blood was unnerving, downright psychotic._

 _"It's an old custom Chris told me about from back in the day," Mendez told him._

 _"When a wrong's been done to his clan, they cut their hand and smear the frame of their home's entrance with their blood and swear an oath. Then, they go off and deal with the poor bastard that did them wrong in the worst way." Mendez told him emphasizing 'worst'._

 _"Shit," sheng said, leaning back. He then leaned forward._

 _"He doesn't know it was us, right?" he asked._

 _"The way I see it, we better hope and pray we don't see Chris come in here guns blazing. I'd hate to kill him and have his boy see the body. Loyalty to us or not." Mendez told him, shaking his head._

 _"Where's he now?" Sheng asked. Mendez looked at him._

 _"Him and his old man left after burying that clone. They bought a ticket off-world. Eridanus-II." Mendez told him._

XXX

As Sheng walked in, he saw and heard Michael-002 humming something as he tapped his armrests like they were drums. He stopped as soon as he saw Sheng. He stood up straight.

"Sir!" He saluted the man. Sheng saluted back. Half the week, he came in here to check on Michael. And of course, grill him on Orders of the Sentry, military custom and courtesy, the Oath of Allegiance, and other such things. Michael, of course, would ask about how the other trainees were doing, as well as what had happened so far.

It was obvious that Michael hated being the only SPARTAN-II here, if he could be called that in his condition. He knew that Halsey kept him locked up in this separate facility because she didn't want the brass to find out that she was keeping him from them as there was the possibility that they would harvest his organs as a way to concoct similar looking implants for the rest of the class. And if Sheng and Mendez could, they'd fight the bastards with guns. He was six years old and obviously the product of someone else's more advanced genetic engineering: if that person was running around, looking for his lost creation then ONI could be in for a whole galaxy of hurt.

Michael-002 looked up at him.

"What were you humming, son?" Sheng asked, hands clasped behind his back as he looked at the smaller boy. Sheng stood at 6'1, not average for a mixed Asian-Hispanic. His skin tone was a combination of copper and sun-tanned red. His face was chiseled and clean shaven with almond brown eyes.

"An old rock song that my Dad liked to play at times back when he didn't know I understood the lyrics," Michael told him, honestly adding a 'sir'.

"Name and band," Sheng asked.

"'Ready To Go' by NEFFEX," Michael-002 told him. Sheng frowned. That song's lyrics talked about a sexual relationship.

"That's not for kids, son." Michael grinned in response to Sheng's comment.

"Nevertheless, sir, Dad liked it, sir" Michael answered.

"I listened to a lot of stuff when my parents weren't around: stuff like AC/DC, Metallica, Eminem, that sort of thing." Michael confessed.

'Wow, he really goes for the oldies.' Sheng thought to himself.

'He's a hardcore rock fan just like his old man,' He mused as well. He recalled fondly how every single time they were in a Pelican or onboard a ship Soaring Hawk would always play his music real loud, especially during missions. It came in handy several times.

"Out of curiosity, sir." Michael told him.

"Do you happen to have any idea what happened to the old SPARTAN-I program? Halsey conscripted me, saying I was in the SPARTAN-II program." Michael asked before explaining his reason. Sheng looked at him.

"Classified," The SPARTAN-I said, flatly. His trainee frowned.

"Shoot. Was hoping I would learn something." He said, sighing.

"I mean, if I had to take a wild guess: something bad happened. Really bad." Michael speculated.. Sheng inwardly was sweating blood while he had a stony exterior.

 _'Don't say it. Don't say it. I'm not talking about KALEIDOSCOPE.'_ Sheng thought.

"Either that, or the bureaucrats decided that peaceful negotiations was a better option." The SPARTAN 2.0 said, shrugging. Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief.

"But, seriously though: I better not be a guinea pig for the rest of my life. I was built for war, I swear." Michael said, adding 'sir'.

"We do our duty no matter what it is, trainee." Sheng told him. His charge gritted his teeth.

"It just doesn't make sense, sir. I was supposed to be with-" The trainee started to say. Sheng cut him off.

"-is irrelevant. You don't always get what you want in the service. You get orders, got it?" Sheng scolded. The boy bit whatever pride he had and nodded.

'Aye, aye, sir." Michael told him. Sheng was about to turn his back on the kid when he noticed something odd. His heart-rate started to fluctuate and the kid's eyes rolled back into his skull, leaving veiny whites to be seen. Sheng stepped back and swore.

"Kid?" Sheng asked, worried.

"Trainee?" He stepped forward. The kid's expression was one of horror as if he was seeing the end of the galaxy. His mouth looked like it wanted to scream. His heart-rate started to beep rapidly on the monitors.

He looked around. Where the hell was the doctor in charge of this place?! Where the hell were the staff?! There was no one except him and the kid here!

Deja' appeared.

"Chief Sheng, I am detecting abnormal neural activity with Michael-002's brain as well as both of his hearts rapidly beating well beyond normal parameters." Deja announced, stating the obvious. Sheng removed the curtain so the damned AI could see what was going on. Deja', like all Smart AI, couldn't have real emotion. She blinked as she saw that Michael's eyes were rolled back into his head.

"I will alert the nearby medical staff and Doctor Halsey right away." She said before winking out of existence.

His trainee started panting as if in labor as his rolled back eyes moved rapidly. Sheng then touched the kid's neck as he was about to snap the kid out of it. Just then, he saw what the kid saw.

Sheng didn't know what the hell had just happened, but as soon as his hand went to the kid's neck and shoulder, he saw what perhaps no child should ever see.

 _He saw the world of Harvest in orbit as it was: lush, green, with barely any lights on the night side of the planet. A lone ship that was impossible in design flew into its orbit. It destroyed the communications relay in orbit and then was destroyed. Another one came after some time had passed and promptly began its invasion._

 _On the ground, the local militia was fighting a losing battle, evacuting as many people as it could as thebrutal and ape-like aliens and their smaller and much more dog-like minions waged practical genocide against them. Their weapons a mixture of spike and needle-spewing guns to plasma weapons that melted flesh and armor. He saw Utgard burn into the night as the militia got everyone to a mass driver to be loaded into shipping containers and then blasted off into space._

 _But, leading them was a very familiar face: Avery Johnson, a fellow SPARTAN whose actions pretty much destroyed the SPARTAN-I program._

 _He didn't want to believe it when he saw AJ Johnson lead these people, few in number, to safety as the world around them was being glassed to hell by plasma turrets._

 _He saw more worlds get glassed, worlds that were the hub and centers of humanity: Endymion, and others. One of the worlds he saw that got glassed was Reach. On those worlds, he saw whole cities get swarmed by alien soldiers, species that he didn't see earlier: Big hulking giants that destroyed vehicles with plasma canons from their arms, alien warriors in a variety of colored armor that killed indiscriminately, bugs that swarmed the skies, foreigners with pointed snouts that were the sharpshooters for their species, wielding shields and some kind of pistols for their protection._

 _He saw green-armored warriors with numbers on their armor, standing taller than regular men and women as they fought the aliens and the Insurrectionists as well. They could wield machine guns like rifles and were able to take down even the mightiest of aliens. What struck him was how familiar the armor was. It looked just like the armor that was being developed right now!_

 _He saw UNSC carriers and cruisers, the pride of the Navy, get smashed to pieces, blown apart as their own salvoes were denied by some kind of energy shield. Then, they came for Earth... and half of Africa was glassed as the UNSC's Home Fleet was smashed to pieces._

Both of them snapped back to reality. Michael-002 blinked, his eyes now facing forward and then saw Sheng's hand on his shoulder. Michael's eyes went to Sheng who stood with a brief look of fear and confusion at what had just occurred.

"Chief... why is your hand on my shoulder?" Michael asked, slowly. Sheng had regained his composure and took his hand off of the boy's shoulder.

He looked down at the kid with a serious look.

"Wait right here: I'm getting Doctor Halsey. You're going to tell her what you saw." He ordered. Michael opened his mouth to speak only for him to be cut off.

"Is that clear?" Sheng asked, glaring at him. Michael nodded.

"Yes, sir." The trainee said, reluctantly. Sheng turned and walked away.

"Deja', get the med team in here and make sure to tell me and Halsey when he has another episode like that!" Sheng called as he left the infirmary. He walked into the hallway. He had to tell Frank about this and ask Halsey if he could contact AJ. Someone had to know about what was going to go down.

"Of course," Deja' said in his earpiece. Then, about two seconds later, as he saw the med team run towards him, the AI's voice crackled in his ear.

"I'm reading abnormal neural activity again," Sheng stopped and he was about to turn around and walk back into the infirmary. .

"However, I do not see his eyes rolling back into his head... but something rather strange has just occurred outside." Deja' announced. Sheng's jaw dropped at what she said.

"A massive storm has spontaneously formed over the facility," As if to emphasize the point, the lights went out briefly and came back on as a loud muffled crack was heard from outside.

"What the hell was that?" Someone shouted, others roared in confusion at what just happened.

"That was a lightning strike!" Someone else said to that person, a technician.

"The weather's supposed to be sunny today!"

"My god, the kid's a psychic." Sheng realized, shaking his head.


	7. Chapter 7: Tale of Angron

**Chapter 7**

 **(A/N: Sorry to bother you all: Mind if you can tell me how I'm doing so far, portraying the characters? What can I improve and what should I add? Thanks! Hope you all like it so far!)**

 _Reach_

 _Epsilon Ipsi_

 _Inner Colonies_

 _Human space_

Catherine Halsey had been with MCPO Mendez when she got the call about Michael. They had been discussing the various teams and how their bonds were either strengthened or lacking. One team in particular was on her mind: Blue: John-117, Sam-034, Kelly-087. John, on his first training exercise with the team had ignored instructions in which the last team to reach the bell at the other end of an obstacle course would go without dinner. Needless to say, he had been pretty much selfish, but also inspired others to go to said bell. However, it earned the ire of his team, to whom he apologized and made up by performing more admirably afterwards, inspiring them to victory.

She had met John before meeting Michael-002. She did have a preference for John as she was the smartest non-genetically altered human child she had met(He was going to undergo genetic engineering at the later stage of the program)... and also quite lucky. Apparently, he had some kind of premonition... and somehow created a massive thunderstorm over the facility he was currently housed, which could be seen for hundreds of miles, scaring local farmers, plus a crap ton of kivas (an Eastern European colonist term for community on Reach).

She hitched a ride on a Pelican (ordered, rather) with Mendez in tow as Mendez's presence was also requested by MCPO Sheng, Michael's personal instructor, and went to the facility as the storm dissipated. Deja' kept her updated as she arrived. MCPO Sheng met her.

"Neural activity in Michael-002's mind has returned to normal levels. According to the diagnostic data, he's calmed down by now with a steady heart-rate." Deja' reported.

"Thank you, Deja'." Halsey said and then sighed. She turned to Sheng.

"What the hell happened?" She asked, flatly as they walked.

"I haven't a damn clue. We had a bit of a conversation about why he couldn't be with the other trainees and he was disappointed. I gave him the usual stern talking to." Sheng explained.

"Juan, that kid's not normal like anyone else." Franklin Mendez told him. Sheng looked at him.

"Frank," They all stopped.

"You haven't a clue as to how right you are in what you just said," Sheng said, cryptically. Frank frowned.

"As I was about to leave, I saw his eyes go back into his head." He told Halsey.

Halsey then listened as Sheng described how he tried to make sure that the trainee was alright and when he touched the boy's neck, he saw the same thing that Michael-002 saw it seemed. Halsey shook her head in bewilderment and Franklin looked incredulous as Sheng described what he saw.

"You're saying the kid had a vision of the future? Like the future of everything?" Franklin asked, for reassurance. Sheng nodded.

"I saw AJ in the vision, Frank." Sheng stated flatly. Franklin tilted his head. Halsey looked between them and then remembered that the 'AJ' they were referring to was Avery Johnson, a former member of the SPARTAN-I program. He was involved in a botched mission on a classified planet to take out an Insurrectionist cell.

"He was on Harvest, leading the local militia towards the planet's sole mass driver to get off-world. I dont' know why they were using the orbital elevator, but there were aliens attacking them." Sheng explained. Halsey still found it hard to believe that not only did that trainee have a 'vision', his personal trainer touched his neck and saw the same vision as well... in addition to also creating a massive storm that pretty much everyone for a hundred miles (and via satelite) saw.

"We'll talk about this later." She told them before Mendez could speak. The two men looked at her.

"Right now, I'm going to grill that boy until he tells me everything that he didn't want to tell me before." She told them flatly. She She arrived in the infirmary with Mendez and Sheng staying outside and talking. A doctor somewhat like herself, save that he was a skinny black man with glasses and only an M.D., walked up to her.

"Well, everything checks out on him for now." He told her.

"Where the hell were you when this was going on?" She hissed at him. He sighed as the black man with the nametag 'Watson' rubbed the back of his shaved head.

"I was in a conference with my team," He told her. She shook her head muttering a certain god's name.

"He hasn't shown any symptoms or maladies in the past near-three weeks he's been here. We thought he would be fine." He then dipped his head as his eyes turned to slits. His name tag read 'Watson'.

"And you should know better than to have a six-year-old kid stay up for three weeks straight with no sleep." He hissed back his own voice barely a whisper.

"For the record, you two: I can stay up because I can feel like it." Michael's voice called from behind the man. The man very slowly his head as Halsey looked over his shoulder. Michael had a bottle of water in his hand and drank it down in one gulp. He then crumpled it with his hand and tossed it in a trashcan on the other side of the room.

Watson looked back at her.

"You're insane for pulling this off, Dr. Halsey." Watson said.

"That kid's got gifts, I'll admit." Watson admitted.

"but I'm willing to bet what happened less than an hour ago is a symptom of what you're putting him through. And if you don't stop this experiment, then there'll be hell to pay." Watson hissed.

"You're dismissed, _Doctor_ Watson." Halsey told him angrily. He walked away from her. She walked up to the boy.

"Are you alright, Michael?" She asked, getting down to his eye level. Michael looked back at her.

"I'm fine, ma'am. Nothing to be worried about," The SPARTAN-II told her, shaking his head.

"Chief Sheng says 'otherwise'." Halsey told him.

"Chief Sheng shouldn't touched my shoulder when it happened!" Michael snapped at her, his eyes afire with anger. His heart-rate rose on the heart monitor.

"Dr. Halsey, another storm has formed outside of the base." Deja' reported. Michael's eyes widened.

"Shit," He muttered, trying to calm down.

"It has now dissipated," The AI reported immediately. Halsey straightened her back and crossed her arms.

"So, you can control the weather." She said. Michael looked away from her.

"And you _have_ been having visions." She added.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" She asked, her eyes showing concern.

"Is this why you didn't sleep at all for those five days?" She asked as well, pressing him for answers. The boy sighed and rubbed his face.

"Yes," He admitted, nodding his head and crossed his arms.

"I started getting them when I was about a year old." He confessed.

"My first vision was when my grandpa showed me my ancestor's war hatchet from the 1800s." He said.

"After that, I saw something." His face scrunched in discomfort.

"Something terrible," he said.

"I saw this massive-" He paused as he tried to describe it.

"The person that I saw was like me... but he definitely wasn't." Michael said, shaking his head. He looked up at her.

"I saw that person's life like a movie," He told her, blinking.

"I saw him when he was a kid: he killed some aliens that tried to kill him on some kind of feral planet.." He shook his head as the memory came back.

"The people that found him?" He scoffed.

"He was like me: he grew up fast, smarter than anyone else... but he was different. He didn't look like me." He said, describing this person.

Halsey thought as he spoke.

 _'This sounds like he's seeing someone's life... is this the future or the past or the present? We never found anyone else like Michael before or after his pod crashed on Harvest... so who is this person that he's talking about?'_

"They treated him worse than _dog shit_." Michael said, emphasizing the last two words. He sneered.

"How can anyone treat someone like him that way?" He commented as the memory came back, vividly from what she saw.

"They put these nails into his head... making him a monster." He looked up at her.

"They were the human versions of Michael Vick: making him fight other people... men, women, children even. I can't even describe the aliens that he fought." Michael said, shrugging. He shook his head.

"I saw his thoughts, what he felt. The things in his head made him act like an animal, like a damned _beast_." Tears fell down his eyes.

"In the end, that's what happened to him." Michael said as he continued the tale.

"He got tired over it all: the needless deaths, the carnage that he saw: he was done with it." He said.

"He wound up becoming that world's Spartacus," Michael said, referring to the legendary rebel slave who led an ill-fated rebellion.

"He led his people to freedom for a brief period, I don't know how long. but I know that all of them fought."

"And their masters hunted them down like the dogs that they thought they were until they cornered them." Michael said, his anger growing.

"Ma'am," Deja' started to say.

"I saw them surrounded right. Right as this guy... this... giant (whom was like me) was preparing for a final assault in which he would die with honor, he was approached by someone from the sky: the Golden Man, I call him." Michael told her.

"The reason is because he's... well..." The Spartan-II said, trying to explain.

"The guy wears heavy golden armor, has a golden sword, that sort of thing. Hell, the light and aura he gives off is pretty much gold... like the guy's a god." Michael said, honestly.

"He's... familiar to me though, I don't know why... but that's the first time I saw him. But, I can't help but think that I could've seen him before." Michael said, thinking.

"I saw the Golden Man in later visions, though." Michael added.

"Back to the one at hand: The Golden Man told the guy that he was the giant's dad: In fact, the Golden Man called him 'Angron'." Michael said. Michael frowned.

"Funny, right? Guy gets angry so he's called 'Angron'?" Michael grinned.

"Well, the Golden Man told him to get onboard his ship that was in the sky as he didn't want his kid, Angron, being killed. Angron told the Golden Man to pound sand and the Golden Man disappeared in a flash. (IN all honesty, I think he teleported somehow. The bastard seems capable of it)." Michael said.

"The Golden Man didn't give two cents and took his son anyway as the enemy charged in." Michael sighed as he shook his head.

"Angron watched as his comrades all died by his masters' hands," Tears ran down his cheeks.

"I saw him plead and beg for the Golden Man to let him die by their hand alongside them. The Golden Man told him no. Angron swore and cursed at him."

"The Golden Man told him that the reason why he saved him was so that he could lead the legion he was meant to lead. Angron told him to go fuck himself." Michael grinned at the last bit and shook his head and then stopped.

"I can still remember it though: Angron's brothers dying." He shook his head.

"I can't help but feel sorry for him," Michael said. Throughout the tale, Halsey hadn't interrupted him. It was as if he was telling a story about a brother.

"He had his revenge though: both on the Golden Man and the masters that enslaved him for so long."

"Angron slaughtered them all like they fattened cows they were. In the end: the whole damned world got devastated and he did get his new legion. Originally, they were the War Hounds. Angron called them 'World-Eaters' because when they went to war, it was like they were going to eat those worlds alive. There was a guy among them," Michael said.

"Hell, I forgot to tell you what they were like: these guys were about twice the size of a six-foot man: twelve feet in all. Bulky and built like linebackers, (twice as big actually) and these guys are the fastest, strongest dudes I've ever seen." Michael said.

"I've seen their tactics vary from assaults to sieges, to ship-boarding operations, you name it." Michael grinned.

"Hell, it sounds like they're my people." Michael said, laughing as he shook his head. He stopped laughing again. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"For all I know they could be, except if they were really here, I'd be with them right now." He said, sadly. He shook his head out of his solemnity.

"Angron led his men out to war for.. gosh, it must've been centuries. I saw his other brothers: Perturabo, Jaghatai Khan, Leman Russ, and other guys I can name." Michael said the names.

"There was one that he met whom I think would best (Maybe) relate to me: Rogal, Rogal Dorn. He's the guy leading the Imperial Fists." Michael said.

"His skin-tone's like me. Hell, if I had to guess the guy's descended from our Inuit cousins from former Canada." Michael confessed.

"Back to Angron, I saw his war..." He wasn't smiling.

"He left a bloody and blazing trail of destruction. He killed everything he came across. Everything. And the one guy that tried to control him that wasn't his Dad was a guy named 'Kharn,'" Michael said.

"One day, as he and his brother named 'Horus' took out an enemy planet of humans that had the same tech as them: something started... something bad." Michael said.

'I saw Angron get corrupted by his brother... how, I don't know. And Kharn? His second in command? He got... worse. I saw Angron later on turn into something terrible." He said.

"I saw how it all went down and how it ended: Angron turned into this bull-demon. He abandoned his axes that he used for something worse. And he _loved_ those axes. Instead, he used this big chain-axe (self-explanatory). I saw how he changed... physically." Michael said.

"He turned into this... thing," He spat the last word out.

"Something... turned him into it. It was like a damned bull. And he was filled with nothing but bloodlust and-" He shook his head.

"I won't say anything else about it. It's too horrible to describe." He looked up at her.

"Needless to say: he and other brothers that were like him turned into those _demons_." He said,

"And I don't use that word lightly if you were to ever see them, which I hope, we never do." Michael told her. To the doctor, it was as if he was warning her.

"I've seen other visions about the other giants." Michael said.

"Do you know what they were called?" Halsey asked, curious.

"'Primarchs'... I heard the Golden Man say they were 'Primarchs' and their warriors, or 'sons' as the Primarchs called them 'Astartes'." Michael explained.

Michael thought about it.

"I heard them call the Golden Man 'Emperor'... but I never heard the actual name." Michael said. Halsey looked at him.

"Can you tell me about the last vision you had? The one you had a-"

"Sure," Michael said, nodding.

The trainee described the war that he saw in brutal detail. Her eyes widened as he described the worlds that he saw get destroyed, the brutal massacres and slaughter that would engulf human space (if this vision that he had was true). She held her breath as he described the 'green-armored warriors' that he saw, the ones that stood taller than most men and women. She knew what he was talking about and it was as if Michael had truly seen the future.

The armor that he described was currently in development out-system. The MJOLNIR series armor was still in development stages and what he saw was the Mark-IV or V version. That was impossible for him to see as it was so classified that not even she was sure how far development had gone, much less what world it was being developed on. She shook her head. There had to be a way to see what he was seeing.

Mendez walked in along with Sheng, both looking a bit flustered. It was like they had an argument. Something that Halsey decided to ask Mendez about later. Michael straightened up.

"Sir," Michael said, saluting.

"Trainee, this is MCPO Mendez. He trains your fellow SPARTANs." Halsey explained as Mendez saluted back.

"I've heard a little about you, trainee." Mendez said.

"Permission to speak freely, sir." Michael inquired. Mendez nodded.

"I know whom you are, sir." Michael told him. Mendez's eyes narrowed.

"Explain," He said, flatly.

"Your last name is the same as that of another Mendez from the mid-to-late 22nd century. The same guy who wrote a bunch of memoirs about his time during the Rainforest Wars of 2169. It was one of the best books I ever read about that time, sir."

"Sufficed to say: it's an honor to meet his descendant." The Spartan said, smiling. Mendez hid his feelings. Halsey looked at Michael.

"You got all that from his name-tag?" She asked, incredulous. Michael gave her a bored look.

"With all due respect, the present Mendez is a spitting image of his ancestor, ma'am." Michael told her, pointing at him. Mendez glared at him.

"Trainee, I am still a superior officer." Mendez reminded him. Michael sat up.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. She asked, I answered, sir. Again: sorry." The Spartan apologized.

"I know your family history as well, trainee." Mendez said. Halsey suppressed her grin.

"The Asanagu were fierce cavalry warriors... before they got slaughtered by the US Cavalry." Mendez told him. Michael looked at him. His eyes went into slits.

"We were also good archers, sir." Michael told him.

"We could hit a man's balls by a little more than a mile." The Native-American raised supersoldier said his barb. Halsey nearly snorted in laughter.

"At least my ancestor didn't get kicked out for an affair his brother's wife and killing said brother," Mendez retorted. At first there was silence and Halsey thought there was going to be an argument or a fight. Then, Michael burst out laughing.

"Oh my spirits," He said, laughing. He wiped tears from his eye.

"I thought only fellow natives heard the story!" He said.

"Your ancestor told members of the cavalry unit what got him banished," Mendez told him.

"Eh, still, it kept him safe from what happened. Still, I bear no hard feelings against anyone descended from the US or Europeans. It's been centuries since then." Michael said, dismissively as he waved a hand.

"I am also aware that your father and grandfather got banished, you have my condolences." Mendez said. Michael's eyes widened.

"And how in the hell do you know that?!" The trainee roared in surprise, his heart-rate beating.

"Michael," Halsey warned. Michael calmed down immediately, his heart-rate going back to normal.

"I apologize for my actions. I wasn't aware that UNSC was so aware of my family origins," The Spartan apologized.

"Don't do it again, trainee. You're not the only one who knows a lot." Mendez told him.

"Aye, sir." The super-soldier said, smiling. It looked like the kid met someone very interesting.

"Trainee, can you explain to Master Chief what you saw in your..." Halsey started to say.

"Premonition? Of course," Michael said. He then told Mendez what happened. Mendez rubbed his chin. He stood in silence. Michael leaned forward, curious for his answer. Mendez brought out his Sweet Williams cigar and lit it. He took a few puffs. Halsey would ordinarily warn him not to smoke it in the infirmary, but thought better.

"first of all: this whole thing seems fantastic." Mendez said, looking at Michael.

"Aliens invading us? A bit cliche' don't you think?" He asked, skeptical.

"I saw my homeworld get glassed, it's surface turned to glass by some kind of energy beam by a single enemy ship." Michael told him flatly. Mendez took another puff.

"Do we know how far into the future this is? What's the limit of your premonitions? Is it reliable?" Mendez asked, rapid-fire.

"These are questions we need to ask. Hell, even if all of this _is_ true: another question is how long would this war last?" Mendez said, skeptically.

"I have no idea," Michael confessed.

"Not only that, but these green-armored folks you saw? Word of advice, trainee." Mendez said, walking over to him. He towered over the sitting kid.

"Forget the armor, got it?" Mendez ordered, more than a request.

"Aye, sir.' The psychic-trainee affirmed, obviously filing it away in his mind for future reference.

"Ma'am, mind if I say a word with you in private?" Mendez inquired. Halsey nodded. She led him out of the infirmary and to a conference room on the far side of the facility.

"We're this far because of his implants, right? The ones someone else gave him?" Mendez asked, holding his cigar as he walked into the conference room. It was free of bugs, she had electronically checked. They sat down. Mendez put his cover down on the table and sighed.

"Halsey... I know that kid's old man," Mendez confessed as he took the cigar out. Halsey shrugged and briefly raised her eyebrows as she spoke.

"I know as I saw your old unit's record," She told him. Mendez nodded.

"Ma'am, we obviously can't tell anyone about this: if someone from high up gets word of it... I don't even want to _think_ of what they will do to the kid. I saw how they do interrogations." Mendez said.

"We both know that 002's adoptive father is on a war path," Halsey announced. Mendez blinked.

"Deja' told me and ONI found out about it," She explained.

"Both him and his old man as well," Mendez sighed.

"ONI's going to want to move 002 to a new location," He told her and then realized.

"Son of a bitch," He whispered.

"You told me that he wasn't like the others, so you moved him here. You took him here and didn't tell Parangovsky that he was in an entirely different facility... did you?" He shook his head upon seeing her expression.

"Do you realize what you're risking for all of us?" He asked, leaning forward with a not-so-pleased look on his face. He scoffed and leaned back as she told him why she did it.

"I did this because... I see that someone else made him first. Not only that, but if someone other than me has him: they'll either kill him first and then harvest him or vivisect him and take his organs. Why do you think I put him here and had Deja' send the brass false reports?" She asked, leaning forward towards him. He shook his head muttering 'you're smart but you're also damned stupid'. She scoffed.

"Honestly, I have a feeling that if whomever made him is still out there... I'd rather be on the safe side and keep him here as a guinea pig for as long as we can manage." She said.

"On that, I think we can agree." Mendez told her. She looked at him.

"Juan told me about the shit the kid did his first five days," Mendez told her.

"The record of a Spartan doing pushups in my day was about a thousand and one." Mendez said, raising one finger.  
"That genetically engineered bastard did close to three thousand and he wasn't even tired." He shook his head in disbelief as he spoke.

They both chuckled.

"I really do hope he gets out of here someday, I really do." he told her as he leaned back.

"Because, I sure as hell would love to see the look on the Innies' faces as they see him in action."

"Provided we let him out," Halsey reminded him.

"Right," He told her, nodding.

XXXX

John-117 looked off in the distance as he and the other trainees did their morning exercise of push-ups. An hour ago, there had been some kind of sound of thunder... a loud one. Funny as it was impossible that there was a thunderstorm. The sky was clear for miles and it sounded kind of like either a cannon or a really big gun.

Jorge-052 fell onto the ground, exhausted. An angry instructor walked over to him before any of the other trainees could try to encourage him to get up. Jorge found himself on the receiving end of a stun baton.

"Get the fuck up, Jorge!" The man said, using the Spanish pronunciation instead of Jorge's _Slavic_ pronunciation. The instructors didn't give a of the kids winced as it happened.

They learned that it would come sooner or later. John had it happen to him, as well as Sam-034 and Kelly-087 and everyone else. There were seventy-five kids here, he counted. Everyone from various worlds. All of them, sadly, had their heads shaved per military regulation. Not everyone could remember parents. Jai-006 came from an orphanage. Jorge, actually, came from Reach himself as he was from a town or 'kiva' he had called it called 'Ost'.

John hated exercise, hated it. He preferred the classroom, but quite frankly: what Mendez said, everyone followed, whether they liked it or not. Everyone hated Mendez. Everyone. What he wouldn't give to put a fist into his face.

"Where do you think Mendez went off to?" He heard Kelly asked, whispering.

"Who cares? As long as he's gone, we're fine... kind of." Sam said loudly. Just then, a pair of combat boots came right up to Sam who looked up as he was pushing down.

 _"Oh shit,"_ He swore right before the instructor struck him with a baton. John was amazed how he knew that particular curse word. Almost no one swore around them and well, he tried to remember his parents swearing but found that they didn't. They were gone now, though, Halsey had told them.

Not only that, but he heard one of the instructors back in the mess hall ask another instructor if there had been another kid supposed to be with them. Of course, John didn't know and he was surprised that an instructor didn't know if there was supposed to be another kid with them. Hopefully, that 'other kid' was safe and fine and far away from this awful hell. Everyone hated it here. Anywhere was better than here, especially Deja's classes. He loved learning the lessons that she told about the ancient Spartans. He personally wanted to be like Leonidas, the King of the Spartans in those days.


	8. Chapter 8: Testing and Meeting Mom

**Chapter 8**

 **(A/N: Am I getting KALEIDOSCOPE and the dates wrong for when the ORION Project occurred? On a Halo Wiki page, ORION-I ended with KALEIDOSCOPE on Harvest, I think. I could be wrong. If anyone can point out the flaws, I'll happily change them to the best of my ability. Other than that, how's everything else looking?)**

 _Reach_

 _Epsilon Indi_

 _Inner Colonies_

 _Human space_

It had been about two weeks since Michael's vision of the upcoming war. Since then, the Spartan-II trainee had been given a bit of freeway in the experiment: namely, he got to enjoy things his fellow Spartans didn't: such as video games on a personal laptop, papers to draw on when he did get those visions, along with listening to music. Deja' had noticed that he tended to download a lot of late 20th to early 21st century rock songs along with rap of various genres. Needless to say, Halsey was surprised at the lyrics of some of the songs that he listened to.

After the experiment had ended, Michael was back to his normal training regimen. By the time the month had ended, Halsey had noted that he had been fatigued for a month's lack of sleep, while maintaining ninety percent energy for his usual exercises. He was never given any special training missions. However, Michael was given a bit more advanced training than his other classmates, whom had yet to graduate to such a level.

The weapons training segment had been easily sped through as Michael was fully aware of how MA5B rifles operated and how to maintain such a weapon. He also learned how to use a light machine gun, a Squad Automatic Weapon, the SMG, and the Battle Rifle 55 as well as the various other small arms weapons that the UNSC used. Michael tended to prefer the MA5B and the Battle Rifle. He also liked the light machine gun. He had a vision during his weapons training. When asked what he saw, the Spartan had told Halsey that he saw the armored men, the ones that definitely weren't wearing MJOLNIR armor, use weapons that were bigger than the MA5B rifle, with barrels as big as a man's head or twice as big. He also saw them use some kind of retro-futuristic plasma weapons. He saw the heavier weapons that those guys used in his visions.

Michael passed his weapons training with flying colors, knowing safety disciplines such as not having the barrel be pointed at anyone, but rather to the ground, as well as how to properly maintain the various weapons.

He had also learned Close Quarters Combat, or rather, practiced what he had learned on the 'net. Surprisingly, he knew various other martial disciplines such as Kung Fu, Krav Magra, and several other such things. He was able to surprise Sheng, whom also knew Shaolin martial arts as well, during their sparring sessions. Despite Michael's bulk and mass, he was able to pull off such techniques like an acrobat, relying on mere strength and brute force as well as agility. \

Over the next six months, they did other tests, most of which had to be administered by Halsey herself so that no one could snitch about what they saw.

For instance, she tested Michael's ability to create thunderstorms. He recalled standing outside in a large room of the facility in his training clothes. Halsey had a few recording cameras and a few diagnostic patches hooked up to various machines.

"Now, Michael: I want you to think about making a thunderstorm." She told him from behind a glass wall. Michael sighed. He closed his eyes and made a stance as he concentrated. He heard Deja' start to speak.

"Ma'am, I'm detecting unusual cloud formations over the facility," She announced.

Michael felt the storm outside, growing in mass. He thought about lightning striking the facility again and a split second later, he felt the lightning's power strike the base, the lights flickering.

"Michael, I don't appreciate you trying to destroy the base." Halsey said, flatly.

"I'm just testing my powers, ma'am." He told her.

Michael felt the storm's power growing. His body tensed as he used his powers to expand the storm, expanding its range as far as he could. He felt the lightning strike random places in the surrounding country side, hoping that no one got hurt... except for drunk assholes.

"Let's see what else it can do," Michael said. He thought about covering the whole damn planet in it... just cause. Or rather, maybe the continent they were on? Whichever worked.

"Ma'am, I'm going to try to make it bigger!" Michael told her with a shit-eating grin. He felt Halsey's discomfort and shock.

"Trainee, you better _not_ be causing a hurricane!" Sheng roared on the intercom as someone said 'Oh shit!'.

Michael concentrated on making the storm bigger,but strangely, he could feel his, for lack of a better term 'energy/life force' drain rapidly. He groaned as he realized how big the storm was getting and how fast his life force was draining.

"Ma'am, the storm's pretty much over about a quarter of the planet right now." Deja' said, sounding surprised.

"Shut it down, trainee!" Sheng roared. Michael, in response, sighed in exhaustion as he released his grip, the storm dissipating immediately. He panted and wiped his brow, realizing that his clothes were soaked in sweat.

'Exercise doesn't do this to me,' He said. Not even the sparring sessions with Chief Sheng did this.

XXXX

In another part of Reach, about five hundred miles to the west, across the nearby Sierra Mountains... the 75 Spartans had all watched in horror as yet another freak storm appeared in the winter sky with lightning crackling and hitting trees, splitting them in two. The instructors, spooked from what was happening, ushered them inside the barracks. The smell of body waste was in the air as they were ushered into the barracks with orders given that no one was to go outside until the storm was gone.

"Hey, do you think that was Odin or Thor?" Jorge-052 looked around. Jai-006 scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jorge. The gods don't exist." He scoffed.

"Yeah, well: I've never seen a storm appear that quick and I'm from here!" Jorge told him. John-117 was confused by this as well. Whatever was going on, it looked like it came from the east. Something was going on over there.

And then, just as it appeared, the storm dissipated.

XXX

 _Slip Space_

The man once known as the Emperor looked up, sensing a shift in the warp. Although his powers were weakened, his mastery over them was still unequal. He was inside his own private chamber, traveling inside the warp or... slip stream as it is known in the 3rth millennium, inside his own ship _Bucephalus_. The multidimensional sea was quieter that he ever remember it to be. The calm blue spectre of light outside his windov was a stark contrast from the bombardment of maddening colours typical of the Immaterium, without the incessant scream of the souls of the lost or the whispers and curses of the never born, eternally bound to toil for the will of their four masters. the silence could be interpreted as disturbing if he didn't know the reason. However, in a note of familiarity the warp was still... the warp. Always in flux, with its multidimensional energies that ebb and flow, in constant shift by the reflection of mortals, capable in any moment to give birth of devastating and insidious storms.

And although the foul foursome, for he will _not_ call them "Chaos Gods" since it was a name too spectacular for them, did not have the power to manifest themselves and take root inside the energies of the Immaterium, the presence of the lesser never born was nevertheless expected. He could sense indigenous predatory creatures of the deep warp lurk beneath it's currents, but they were of no concern for him. The never born could not bleed into the materium as easily anymore without the Eye of Terror. A mistake the shard of the Emperor will never allow to happen again, not on his watch.

He could feel it now, a pull of the energies of the Immaterium, far away from where he is directed. But as quickly as he sensed it, it disappears again.

'No matter...' He thought, relaxing his grip on the rolling psionic energies.

 _"I will follow the crumbs first."_ He looked beyond the window to see the dimension fold and open itself like a piece of paper. And just below the ship's hull, the sight of planet Harvest gleamed like an unspoiled jewel.

XXXX

 _Reach_

 _Epsilon Ipsi_

 _Inner Colonies_

 _Human space_

Michael panted as he heaved over.

"Oh, jeez." The Spartan-II panted, shaking his head.

"I never thought it would be so difficult." He said, breathing hard. A medical team came over, handing him a bottle of water. He stood up straight and drank it in one gulp.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Watson asked, concerned. The Spartan looked at th monitor. His heart-rate was rapidly beating and slowing down. It had beat rapidly during the storm's creation.

"Like I just spread myself across the damned planet," He responded. Halsey glared at him from behind the glass.

"That was completely reckless. Do you realize the damage you could've caused? Much less the attention you would bring?" She asked, her electronic voice crackling.

"I was testing my limits, ma'am." He said.

"Try something not so draining for once," She told him. Michael nodded.

"This test is over,"

"Nah, nah." Michael said, raising a hand as the medical staff tried to take off the diagnostic patches. He shook his head.

"I think I got one more trick up my sleeve," He said, thinking on what Halsey had said. Dr. Watson lowered himself to the boy's eye level.

"Are you sure, son? You look really tired. You need a bit of rest." He advised.

"No,' Michael said, taking a deep breath and prepared himself. Watson looked at Halsey, whom nodded. Watson then ushered his staff out of the room. Michael looked around as the staff left. He looked at Halsey and concentrated again, closing his eyes. He found himself calling on something... something else. He drew energy from himself. He thought about a scene from a 20th century sci-fi-fantasy film in which a dark-robed emperor used his lightning ability to electrocute his enemy whom was trying to redeem his father.

The Spartan raised his hands. He opened his eyes, now glowing white as electricity started to crackle around his arms. He spun quickly, and shot his arms forward, commanding the lightning to command out of him. Immediately, lightning bolts shot out of his hands, going towards a wall, scorching it.

"My God... what the hell is he?" He heard Sheng say over the intercom. Michael smiled as he looked down at his arms. He felt like that one super hero he saw in a 21st century video game who also used lightning. He saw the lightning crackle around his arms.

"Things just got a bit more interesting," He said, smiling as he snapped his fingers, lightning sparking as he snapped. He commanded it to go away and it did. He turned around.

"What do you think, Doc?" Michael asked, crossing his arms.

Halsey looked at him, shaking her head from behind the wall, surrounded by stunned technicians and Sheng.

XXX

Utgard

Harvest

Epsilon Ipsi

Outer Colonies

Aslan Shah, as his current name was, sighed as he looked at the house that stood before him. It was a nice home with a terrible decoration, in fact it was downright insane: dried blood was all around the exterior of the front door. He had heard of human cultures practicing this in the past, but this was ridiculous. Then, he himself was reminded of the terrible rituals that had occurred when he was fighting the shadow war with Chaos: the secret dark and bloody rituals, the orgies in the underworld of hive cities and in expensive homes, and other such depraved things.

Jordan Keller shivered.

"Jeez, boss. I heard that his family used to do this thing way back before we left Earth but in today's galaxy?" he shivered. His bodyguards, both of them bulky and muscular with their long-sleeved plaid shirts not ripped were looking around for potential assassins. The only person from ONI he knew on this planet was standing right next to him.

By then, the sole occupant of the house, (He noticed a red pick-up truck that was a bit old. The license plate had the emblem of the UNSC Marines on it), stepped out of the front door. She was a very lovely woman, he admitted to himself. She had long black hair that wasn't even graying yet. Her eyes were dark and her face was like that of a Native American version of a goddess... if they ever had such a thing.

"May I ask whom you are and what you're doing on my family's property?" The woman asked, walking up to the men.

The Emperor stepped forward, away from their four-door sedan they had rented.

"Ma'am, my name is Aslan Shah, I'm a private investigator from Mars. I've come here on a case." Aslan half-lied. The woman crossed her arms. She was clad in a blue plaid shirt with jeans and boots.

"why are you here?" She looked at him with suspicion.

"Ma'am, I believe we should speak inside." He told her honestly. He turned to the others.

"Wait here," He told them. They nodded, giving off a few similar responses of affirmation. She looked at him warily but led him inside. As soon as they went inside, she led him into the dining room.

A brief scan of the house around him revealed a modest-looking living room with a mantle of family photos, a dream-catcher hanging on a wall. Two of the photos showed a younger Michael with his parents and grandfather. One of them being when he was just an infant, no doubt after he had been discovered.

He walked into the dining room right as she turned around and put a switch blade that she had obviously hidden in her pocket to his throat.

"Not a damn shout, not even a scream." She warned. Her eyes showed anger. Obviously, she mourned her son's loss. He had learned earlier that the boy's adoptive father and grandfather left Harvest for Eridanus-II. Why there was anyone's guess.

"Ma'am, my ID is in my left front pocket of my pants. It says who it says I am." He said, cautiously. Of course, he could obviously kill her with a thought. However, this was his son's adoptive mother. What could he tell him if he did such a thing?

"Nobody comes all the way from Mars for here. Who're you really with?" She pressed the knife harder against his neck as she threatened him. Blood stated to trickle down the wound. He didn't gasp from it.

He looked down at her. He didn't have time for this! His eyes flashed golden. She looked at him with fear.

"Woman," he began, using his psychic voice to at the very least try to dissuade her from doing anything rash.

"Put that knife down before I take it out of your hand." He told her. She blinked and then withdrew her knife in shock and stepped back in fear. He then touched his neck, by now healing itself. He looked at the blood as his eyes went back to normal chestnut brown while the fiery gold gaze of his sight subsided back inside of him .

"Missus Soaring Hawk, you are correct that a mere private detective comes here not just for anything. However, I'm not to be threatened." He began as he looked at her.

"I am looking for the boy you lost," The question shook her out of whatever spell she was caught in. Her mind regained focus, but her eyes remains dilatated, a clear sign of fear.

"I don't remember asking anyone to help," She replied.

"You didn't. But, I must be frank with you about Michael:" The one-time Emperor said, before gesturing to a chair.

"Do you mind if we sit down while we talk? I have a bit of a truth to tell." The former Master of Mankind asked. She nodded and they both sat down.

"Your wound healed," She noted aloud.

"The joys of being me," He sighed.

"Let me refresh your memory: you found your son in a pod, correct?" He asked for reassurance. She looked at him, scared.

"It was marked with a 'II'? Looked very advanced? Also had amniotic fluid come out?" He asked.

"My husband and my father-in-law found the pod west of here while they were hunting." She began.

"It fell near where they stood and they found him in that pod right as it was cooling down," he finished for her with a casual shrug, like he had already heard the same version of her story over and over.

She shook her head.

"How do you know about this? You're not the one who took him, are you?" She asked, hostile intent sparkling from her eyes again as she clutched the kitchen knife. Alshan just chuckled unpeturbed and shook his head.

"No," He said, seriously.

"If anything, I'm the one who's trying to find him." His hands curled into fists. How was he going to have to explain to her about what Michael really was? What he was supposed to have become? This was the 3rd Millenium, Michael was from the 30th Millenium. How was anyone going to understand?

"Michael is my son," he told her frankly. She blinked.

"You are his father?" Whatever she expected, it wasn't that. the answer threw her off and for a moment she was unable to comprehend the thought of it but then suddenly, she froze as she reached a cold conclusion "...You created him. How? You put him in that pod?" She asked, rapid-fire and unsure as she pointed at him.

"I genetically engineered Michael using my own DNA," he explained, gesturing to himself.

"In fact, I had twenty sons, each created for the purpose of being humanity's greatest warriors. All twenty of them were genetically engineered to be the greatest warriors humanity would know."

"However, all of them were taken from me." He said, bitterly as he recalled leaving his laboratory under the Himalayzian mountains, only to hear a very loud noise as soon as the door closed and the presence of something terrible. He recalled getting back into the room to discover a most horrid event: the Chaos Gods had breached whatever seals he had put in place to prevent their meddling, and taken his sons right in front of them. He watched as they took them in the middle of an incomprehensible storm of literal chaos.

He had shouted and screamed at those four bastards in the Warp as they took his prized children and scattered them. It was decades to centuries before he found them all again.

"I found almost all of them save for one. Michael is the last one, the one I thought lost forever."

"And the others?"

"Half of them betrayed me, half did not. There was a war and many of them died, went missing or are now in their homes or something." He told her. She blinked, not understanding any of this.

"I know he was here. I must ask what happened. How was he lost?" He inquired before she could ask.

"We.." She sighed and rubbed her face at the memory. He noticed how distraught she felt.

"We went to Skaelingheim village, a bit aways from here." She said, nudging her head to the right.

"When we came back, I went up to Michael's room and there was this..." Her eyes became teary.

"This _thing_... pretended to be my son." She said, tears runnin down her cheeks.

"Someone came in while we were away and took my boy," she sobbed. His expression softened as she described the monstrous thing that had died in her son's place, how it looked. Obviously, it was a mockery of his work.. a mere flash clone gone horribly wrong. It didn't last long, thankfully. Whomever did this had the resources to try to replace a child, _his child_ , and try to make it look like everything was alright. It wasn't. He frowned.

"Was there anything wrong weeks before he was taken? Anything at all?" He asked her, inquisitively. There surely must've been signs of _something._ People watching him for no reason, strangers asking about him, 'Net searches about him... something... Jordan would've possibly known. Except, he hadn't when he told him about a colleague he met and the incident involving the boy three years ago.

"No," She said, shaking her head, tears falling still.

"We didn't see anyone watching him," Missus Soaring Hawk told him as she frowned in thought. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God," She whispered.

"How could I've been so stupid!" She said, angrily, slamming the table.

"What?" He asked. She then told him what had happened three years ago from her perspective. How her son had so easily slew those terrorists as they tried to make yet another massacre as well as the brief wound he suffered. Aslan nodded.

The boy had suffered a wound that day. ONI, in turn, must've found out from the blood that had been collected that the Soaring Hawks had a child that wasn't theirs biologically and illegally adopted. But, instead of just taking him away ala Child Protective Services, they took him away for something... what was it? It was definitely for his enhanced genes. His hands curled into fists even tighter than before. If they hurt his son in any way, there would be _hell_ to pay.

"Was there anything else?" He asked. She frowned.

"No," She said, thinking. He frowned as well. There were signs that obviously they had missed. The boy must not have been taken so easily and yet she would've mentioned if there were signs of a struggle. So, the boy left without a fight. That suggested that he had been taken voluntarily... but where and what did he sign up for?

"Your husband and father-in-law... where are they now?" he asked. She looked at him.

"I'm the boy's real father. I've been wondering where he was and what happened for far longer than you will ever know:" He told her. She looked at him.

"How can I know that I can trust you?" She asked.

"You're just going to have to. Besides, if I wanted you silenced, I would've done so, quite easily." He told her.

"But, you're his mother. And I don't kill the ones whom my son loves." He told her.

"I can see that you truly loved him as your own." He continued, nodding respectfully.

"And for that: I am grateful. I am indebted to you for raising him in a way as you see fit. I, in turn, shall raise him my way when I find him." He smiled as he spoke.

"I shall bring him back to you and your family, when the time comes." The former Emperor promised.  
"But, for now, I must ask you a bit more than you would like." He told her.

"Where's the rest of your family?" He asked.

"My husband and grandfather both swore the blood oath when we found out what happened," she told him.

"The bloody marking outside of your front door?" He asked.

"It's an ancient custom amongst my husband's people,"

"You are not of the same tribe?"

"No, I'm Cheyenne. They're from the last clan of the Asanagu" She told him.

"Ah," he said, understanding. He had hoped that the Soaring Hawk clan didn't practice incest. He had seen way too much of that in his life.

"And what of the rest of your clan?" he asked.

"They fear him for his power. So, they won't let him inside the boundaries... or us most of the time. They let us in occasionally to speak with the Shaman." She told him. At the word 'shaman', he recalled how he had once told Malcador how in his past, there had been many shamans that gave their lives in a bloody ritual to create him: the most powerful psyker in human history. He didn't recall the past lives of those men, but he did remember talking about it with other confidants such as Malcador and even Horus at times, along with numerous others now long-dead.

"I see," he said, recalling that some people were superstitious. They had a right to be, knowing the terrors of Old Night and what happened that caused it. The death of the Eldar sent a psychic backlash that killed millions of psykers of every species in the galaxy and other psykers were turned into dangerous abominations from the Warp as well as becoming gateways for far worse things. On the other hand, people always feared what they understood.

However, it seemed that Michael definitely meant that he had psychic abilities.

"Can you tell me what he could do? His powers?" he asked, leaning forward.

"He..." She thought as she spoke.

"He can form storms when he's angry," She told him.

"Other times, we saw him in a state of..." she shook her head.

"It looked like he was seeing something, like a vision. Sometimes, we noticed that he didn't sleep for a whole month at a time because of nightmares." She also said.

"He could lift a tractor with one hand, we noticed." She added.

"I..." She paused.

"I think he could read minds or sense how people felt just by looking at them," She added. He shook his head. It was like meeting Magnus all over again, only he didn't meet the boy in the Warp as they formed a connection, but... this was a different circumstance than him meeting his other sons.

"Interesting," he said.

"Where is your husband and father-in-law now?" He asked, getting back on track.

"They went off to Epsilon Eridanus. I saw them buying tickets on the 'Net." She told him honestly.

"Why? Why go there?" He asked.

"My husband served with the UNSC Marines, as did his father. Both of them served in the Outer Colonies as far as I know... but I believe that at one point they went to Eridanus-II." She told him.

"I think they may have had contacts there or something. But, it's definitely related to their deployment. Other than that, I have no other idea why they would go there." She told her son's real father. The Emperor frowned.

"Was your husband a part of an ODST unit?" He asked. She shook her head.

"He didn't say much about what he did," She told him honestly.

"Thank you for telling me all of this, Missus Soaring Hawk. Make no mistake: I will find Michael." He told her.

"I will make sure he, at the very least, sees you again." He told her. He felt sad at what he was about to do. This woman had raised his son as best as she could. But, nevertheless, he had to make sure she didn't tell her husband and father-in-law about meeting him.

His eyes glowed. Her chest tightened in shock and then she started to sway, leaning forward, sleepily as her eyes closed. He wiped her memory of meeting and speaking with him. He then left, making sure the knife was away from her and then walked out of the house.

His retinue stood outside with Keller a bit frustrated.

"What happened, boss?" Keller asked, curious. He wore a plaid shirt with jeans and a gray T-shirt underneath. He still had those work boots.

"We're leaving," he told them. They nodded and started to get back inside.

+++You two in front, I'm having a conversation with Jordan.+++ He told them. Jordan got into the backseat as his two bodyguards were in front.

Jordan put on his seat belt as his boss got in beside him. Jordan looked at him a bit scared.

"Jordan... what can you tell me about the boy's father? Christopher Soaring Hawk?" The Emperor asked, curious.

Jordan frowned, thinking.

"It's been a while since I was in the usual databases that we keep, but let me think for a few minutes." He told his boss.

"Well," he thought after several minutes.

"The name's familiar," He said.

"Maybe...?" He thought aloud. He put his hand on his chin.

"There was a project I heard about back when I was with ONI," He said.

"ORION," He said, nodding.

"Yeah," He said.

"The Insurrectionists were so much trouble, the brass authorized a program that was supposed to be a very good response to the Insurrection, pretty much being a better scalpel against the Innies than ODSTs were by some peoples' reckoning." He told him.

"Back in the old days, I wouldn't be talking about it, but that's then: here's now." He told him, noting his superior's expression as he spoke of 'classified'.

"Well, it went on for awhile. We took men from every branch: Marines, Army, Navy, even Air Force." He told him."

"We enhanced their strength, speed, reflexes, that sort of thing. It made them better." Jordan continued. He frowned.

"We had a bunch of successful ops and some that weren't so successful as we hoped. The last op had been KALEIDOSCOPE," he said.

"I actually knew the guy that was leading it, and he told me that some dickhead screwed it all up."

"What was KALEIDOSCOPE about?" Shah asked.

"An Innie bomb factory here, I think." Shah tilted his head in shock.

"How long ago was this?" He asked, a bit worried. Jordan's answer was somewhat satisfactory.

"The ORION guys took out the factory, but there was a bombing in the city, so they went over there to stop it. They failed and a bunch of people died, including almost an entire squad, if you believe what I heard." Jordan told him, honestly.

"Again, this is what I heard from my colleague, nothing more. I did get a bit of a peak but it was redacted, some of it." He admitted.

"So, they shut it down and everyone that was part of ORION got tossed to the side. They retired, went back to active duty, or did some other stuff." He said. His eyes widened.

 _"No fucking way..."_ He realized, shaking his head. Shah sensed disbelief and incredulity coming from the man.

"Jordan?" Shah asked, shifting his weight to look at him.

"Those mad men," Keller said, shaking his head as he laughed.

"They didn't," He said, grinning.

"Keller," Shah warned.

"The Innies started acting up again as soon as ORION was taken off-line. Before I left, I heard a rumor that they may be thinking about starting it up again." Keller told him. Shah sighed. So, it was a super soldier program... much like his own back in the 30th millenium.

Shah looked at Keller

"Tell me everything you know... and then we're going to find out where that boy is. If this 'ORION' as you speak of it, is what you say it is, then I'm very interested in knowing if there really is an ORION-II and where it's located." Shah told him. He could feel Keller have a bit of dread.


	9. Chapter 9: How To Save A Life

Chapter 9

 **(A/N: In all honesty, credit for a lot of these chapters goes to Falciatore1669. He's a great guy with good ideas. This chapter is for him. Just so you know: a 'head' in Naval terms means a restroom. Another term in the military would be a latrine. Also, for further edification: doors are referred to as 'hatches' and walls are 'bulkheads', lights on the ceiling are referred to as 'overheads' And knowing is half the battle! GI JOE!)**

 _Reach_

 _Epsilon Indi_

 _Inner Colonies_

 _Human space_

Halsey has returned to the site containing Michael codenamed ASGARD after six months over at CASTLE base. Upon arrival, she had desperately wanted to have in her very hands the latest report on the tissue and chemical samples taken from the organs grafted onto Michael-002's

During the last surgery, the surgical team had encountered problem due to Michael's rather tenacious epidermis. Scalpels and bone saws found a hard match with his seemingly steely muscular tissue. In the end they opted to use a laser scalpel, that did the job, though with a much slower pace than anticipated.

However, her medical team was nothing less than excited and had petitioned her for further surgeries and the collection of skin samples of his second heart, his third lung and most of all samples: the several protrusions founded inside and on the base of his brain and spinal column.

The reason for this was shown on her data pad. The first series of tac performed on Michale-002's body by the x-ray scanner done at the beginning of the project showed a series of organelle below the interlocking plates fused with his ribcage, some of the size of the spleen others as big as the pancreas. While the existence of these 'addictions' scared the living jibes of experienced biologist and medics, the research of the purpose and function of these bodies was prioritized above the subject current training, filling up much of the subject schedule.

Halsey had waited a full month from the laboratories report while she oversaw her second project at CASTLE base. Her work comprehends multiple other projects currently in development other than the Spartan-II and little time to spare for each one. She was starting to lose patience by the lack of feedback from her colleagues, up until they sent her _this._

A hormone. A completely new, undiscovered hormone secreted by these organelles had discombobulated the heads of the brightest scientist the current generation have to offer, for a whole month. The scientist did not even recognize it as one such was its complexity; they did not even know what it was. Later on, they saw how similar the substance behaved like a neurotransmitter and metabolism regulator as well as an enhancer drug. Further tests with human samples gave astounding results proving the compatibility with human metabolism. Doctor Stone decided to label it a hormone.

The classification of subject-002 organs was still a debated argument among her team. The first theory of its function was the production of endocrine chemicals that were the cause of the formation of Michael's plated chest. then changed and became an endocrine gland for hormones production, and then was reclassified as a full-fledged organ again.

This hormone seemed to mock her work in its complexity and the reason for this was in the biological schematic. The bio-statistic graph made by Deja indicated that the gland inside Michael-002 was responsible for massive production of chemicals, greatly above of that capable from a common human. The organ was also, astoundingly in her opinion, able to function like metabolizer, producing chemicals both endocrine and exocrine, much like the liver.

It was able to capture hard minerals founds in stones and lace them into the subject's diet who then would absorb and repurpose them to form a film of ceramite over the bones, _literally_ coating them with a hard layer, making them unbreakable.

The scientist's head was spinning as she looked up in awe and shock. _One organ._ One _organ_ was capable to augment the skeleton of the host on the same level of, if not _above_ , of the experimental thirty-percent implants of ceramic carbide and bone growth hormones treatment that resulted in high risk of skeletal pulverization, tumors and other nasty side effects, currently in test development.

It seemed there would be no end of surprises from Michael-002.

But from all of this data the thing that shock her most was the 'compatibility with human genome' label with a number attached.

And _that_ was only the first batch of samples taken from one of the chest organs on the Spartan-II.

Halsey kept reading with a fervor that did not experienced since her younger days when she was studying the theoretical physics of the Shaw-Fujikawa drive under Admiral Ysionris Jeromi's tutorship. Data pages kept scrolling under Hasley's finger swipes, eyes locked on the theoretical biology of the report, devouring the 184 pages while walking and without looking up a moment. How she hadn't crashed anyone was a mystery to bystanders.

As she reached the end page, the last line of Doctor Watson demanded further samples and tests that must be acquired in the name of science. She had reached the testing hall of the facility.

As The door slid opened she entered the room, a pungent scent of sterilized air hit her nose. Inside the white room the medical team under Doctor Watson on their white lab coat and Chief Sheng in uniform were both red-faced and angry and while that was a usual sight, the most concerning sight was the missing presence of Subect-002.

"Doctor Halsey," Sheng greeted, nodding in her direction.

"Sheng," She greeted and take a sip form her coffee mug.

"Michael didn't trouble you too much since the last batch of tests, did he?" She asked, curious. Wondering if Michael was still entertaining himself in the study room with Deja, learning advanced mechanics on the latest simulated environment just to be purposefully late.

"That's what we were waiting for you to talk about, Doctor." Sheng said, speaking for the others.

"You were waiting for me?" she raised an eyebrow. What had been going on here while she was away, she wondered.

"These last days, Subject-002 has been… uncooperative. He refused to start the scheduled test of Monday and Wednesday." Sheng said. Watson grunted.

"Respectively, we had to delay them for the next week. He also demanded to speak with you, ma'am." Sheng told her. Now a little anger started to grow within her.

"And you didn't force him, Sheng?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"You're not getting soft on me, are you?" She teased.

"You think I didn't try?" Sheng scoffed.

"I would think you 'do' instead of 'try', Master Chief. Unless you allowing a boy to delay our schedule" she bite. Halsey have no patience for people that could not do a simple task and right now Sheng image was brought low a few notches.

"He has barricaded himself in his room bypassing the door security lock." The digitized voice of Deja AI filled the room. A security cam video window appeared from Halsey's holo-pad. "He dismantled the access pad of his room, changed the access code and redirected the door power supply from the main to the reserve generator, blocking my attempts to bypass it." The video was fast forwarded showing Michael sabotage of the main door. Halsey made a mental note to cancel all his future studying session on programming language.

"He the proceeded to stalemate any attempts of negotiation by Chief Sheng. He also refused any offer of food and water for six consecutive days."

"The plan now is to blow out the door with low level charges and send in a special team wearing MJOLNIR MARK 1 to subdue him." Sheng told her.

"Mark 1 to an overgrow seven years old boy, Sheng? I need the subject _alive_." She told him.

"You've been at Castle base for six months, Halsey. Kids these days grow faster than normal." Sheng told her.

"The situation does not allow jokes, Master Chief." Halsey retorted with mild irritation in her voice.

"I'm not joking, ma'am." Sheng told her with a serious look.

Halsey looked at him, then the doctors then back at him. They were serious. Just how tall was he now?!

"In that case, I'm going to have a talk with him." She said, turning towards the door. Before she left, she turned back to everyone.

"But, next time: try to lure him with something desirable." She called while thinking how to penalize the kid for his insolence.

 **Ω**

She went to his quarters which was close by. The heavy metal door dismantled access panel turned from red to green and opened revealing Subject-002 to be sitting on his bed, the top half of his body hanging over the lower part as if in thought or prayer. Then the door closed behind her, leaving only her and him in a dim lighted room.

"Are you done with your temper tantrum, Michael?" She asked, crossing her arms. He didn't respond at first and then looked up. Halsey looked at him in shock. Instead of any signs of dehydration or loss of body mass he had growth by a factor of years, resembling that of late teens. His chest and arms were ripple with muscle clearly visible under his overgrowth shirt; his face had lost all the fat and was more angular with hard edges; his brown eyes looked at her disapprovingly.

"You made a real mess here," she started with a slight, while hiding her surprise. "You asked to talk to me, so why we don't talk then?" She said, crossing her arms.

"How much?" Michael asked, his voice having gone a bit deeper.

"How much what?" She asked, dipping her head.

"How much did you mean to uphold your promise when you gave me your word?" Michael asked her, his eyes squinting.

"I'm sorry, _Michael-002_." She answered rather tensely. She tried to have strength for this.

"But your introduction for the project is not scheduled before the subject's augmentations. We talked about that, remember?" She asked, tilting her head as though she was his mother as she put her hands on her hips.

"You told me that I will be implemented in your program as a soldier, with a unit of my own." Michael began.

"And yet, eleven months have passed and I did not even exit the compounds of this facility. All your _schedules_ do not involve any field training of any real value. " He said.

"Your job now is to let us understanding you, so that we can figure the best use of your abilities in the field. There is a time for study and a time for action, Michael. What _you_ have to do is clean your snot and stop behaving like a child." She reminded him.

Michael then stood up from his bed, looking at her at eye level.

"You're growing," She noted in awe.

A growth of two and half feet in a time lap of six months. Much of his biology was still a mystery but as she looked at his form, Halsey's mind made a quick mental calculous. She was a woman of five and half feet and Subject-002 was able to reach that in half a year. If she was correct, he would tower over her Spartan-II like a man would to a child.

"We don't have time. _I_ don't have time." Michael told her as he spoke, walking forward at the next sentence. She stood back, feeling a bit threatened.

"What do you mean?" She asked. What was he saying?

"I'm growing faster now. I can feel it." he told her, his eyes darting as if in thought.

"Not just in body, but in _mind_. By the time the others will be ready, as you said: 'the differences would be too striking'. I need to build a connection before they reach their 14th. Above that line their minds will reach level of maturity that is less malleable to subjection and they will be less able to recognize me like one of their own. Much like the common soldier could compare himself to them. " Michael said to her.

"I don't see the urgency. You can always establish a professional relationship with them later on." She told him.

"That's not," Michael said, his voice about to rise but then it softened.

"What I desire for myself, Doctor Halsey." The Spartan-II told her.

Now Halsey was curious

"And what _do_ you desire, Michael?" She asked, walking forward.

"I want comrades, friends of the battlefield. not just colleagues." He answered.

"I was made for _war_ ,Halsey and I'm growing stronger the more days that pass. But I'm not the only one changing." He began.

"I can sense Doctor Watson and Doctor Stone's intentions change as they review the tests. I can feel their greed and possessiveness. They don't want me to exit this facility _ever_ , they want to tear me open and see what's on the inside. " Michael told her.

"Chief Sheng is a little better, but his change is more slow and subtle. He's thinking of me as less than a boy, a human and more of 'something else'. I can sense some of that in you too, Halsey." His eyes accused her as she spoke.

She didn't respond to that, a little appalled by the super human's revelation. She objected strongly at first, but her mind found his word to be true.

 _'That's private, Michael'_ she thought with a note of anger as she believed he had read her mind. His 'psyker' abilities (As someone from the science team had started calling it) stood still on theories, suppositions, mental graphs, x-ray scans, video feeds. But until now, said abilities had been proven 'existing' and 'significant.'

Doctor Stone had suggested to dig up old experiments proposed from the infamous MK ULTRA of the twentieth century by the American government on Earth during the First Cold War. She approved some of the least invasive tests: prediction of cards, mind reading, telekinesis. It sounded like a joke. Her entire project could be ridiculed by this alone. But what scared her more was Michael passing all the tests, proving the prospective of something she did not like.

"I can be more useful than you can imagine if you just groom me as we agreed to. I could lead your forces to battle instead of rotting here under ground, being poked around for your curiosity."

"Instead, 11 months have passed and I did not receive any military training. No active live training and no team exercise. Just test and experiments and what I could self-taught myself while never leaving the limits of this facility for the last seven months!"

"I thought I agreed to be something more than an organ donor, Halsey. Or did you deceive me?" He asked.

Is this what was all about? Halsey couldn't believe it.

"Do you have _any_ idea," her voice was low as she spoke.

"How much you are worth for this project?" She asked, stepping forward. He looked at her, tilting his head.

"Do you have _any_ idea of how your skin, your enzymes and the primal matter of what makes you 'You' are jumping my project ahead by 10 years?" Halsey voice raised as she scolded Michael for the unnumbered time. Usually, he reacted like that of a child, but now? Not so much.

"Just now I read how you can produce undiscovered hormones that enhance your skeleton and muscular matter on a level that the augmentations can only grant with a sure risk of death. They show that the use of your harvested secretion could reduce the side effects of ceramic bone augmentation of sixteen percent." She said, then laughed.

 _"Sixteen. Per. Cent."_ She grinded those words out of her mouth as she glared at him.

"An increase of two percent would be an achievement. I would be grateful for a five percent." She stated.

"But sixteen percent? It's a miracle, it could save the lives of more than _half_ of the candidates for the augmentations. So, no, Michael. I don't care if you are unsatisfied. I don't _care_ if you scream and shout while we are using you like a lab rat. You _are_ a biological gold mine, and I intend to use you for as long as I can." She admitted.

For a moment there was a tense silence in the room as the two stared at each other.

"But, I did not get back on my word." She said, shaking her head.

"Then allow me to see them. _Today_." He told her flatly.

"I gave you the video feeds of their training, their physiological evaluations and their personal files. Be satisfied with that." She told him. She had hoped that would satisfy him.

"That's not enough," He refuted her again.

"We can butt heads all day, and waste our time. Or you could return with me in the med room and _maybe_ I'll forget this mess even happened." By now Halsey had reach her limit. She was tired of this, he will come with her or she will ask Sheng to 'convince' him.

Michael puffed from his nostril like a bull would do and for a moment Halsey grew worried. She was alone in a closed room with a potentially hostile subject. That line of thought was interrupted as his demure changed. Michael let out a sigh as he closed his eyes and turning his head away from her. His body language changed from irritated to defeated "You said I don't have an idea of how much I'm worth." He told her.

"But I would ask you: do you have any idea when you don't feel a connection with anyone?" He asked, stepping forward when he asked. She looked at him as he spoke.

"When you feel _so_ different that you can't find any similarities with the people surrounding you for so long, that a feeling of longing and loneliness starts to creep into your heart?" He asked, gesturing with his hand closed in a pinching gesture.

"You took me from my family and I have accepted that. You put me in a secret bunker and I tolerated that. I let your colleagues experiment on me and I allowed that." He listed the things that he had suffered.

"I sacrificed all of my connections with the people I loved because I trusted you, Halsey. Because you assured me that while my reality would become bleak and hard from now on: I would not suffer it alone."

Halsey frowned, suddenly defensive. "You are a Spartan-II, Michael. You will have your comrades."

"But will they see me as one? Or they will see a weapon in their ranks. Perhaps some will learn to trust me, but I think they would also fear me. Would you, Halsey?"

Halsey was almost tempted to smack that out of his head. However, doubt had creep in her.

She could not allow the existence of a desynchronized team on her hands.

"Eleven months have passed and I cannot do anything else but pushups, tests and experiments. All the while twirling my thumbs waiting for the others to be ready. If I had to have a team made by these children, then they must know me and I them." He told her, gesturing with his head.

She got the understanding that he felt alone. So alone that there was no one else like him in the entire galaxy.

"These children will be the closest thing to something like me and I assure you that I'm invested in their survival to the augmentations as you do. My will, flesh and blood is theirs." He told her. She looked at him thinking of his words. If he was trying to convince her... he was doing a really poor job of it. However, she was nonetheless impressed by this attempt. The scenery was cleverly thought of, every word was calculated, despite his age. He was talking as if he were either a politician, philosopher or a soldier... or perhaps all in one.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Fine, but we're doing this my way. Not yours. Just give me a day and I can arrange the terms of your visit." She told him. He smiled.

"Thank you, ma'am. I promise that I shall continue to do the tests... provided your part of the bargain is fulfilled." He said, nodding. His eyes showed hope and success. She turned around, leaving him.

 _'Convincing little bastard,'_ She thought as she went to talk with Chief Sheng.

 **Ω**

"Ma'am, if I may say with all due respect: Are you kidding me?!" MCPO Mendez asked in disbelief while he was on the holoscreen in front of her.

"I'm afraid not," She said, shaking her head. Mendez sighed as he rubbed his face. It was about 0200 local time at CASTLE base. He sat up in his bed with his undershirt on. His hair was close-cropped.

Mendez grunted on the screen.

"I'm not even sure how the kids would react to someone like him,"

"Which is why he's only going to _see_ them, _not_ interact with them." She told him. Mendez raised an eye-brow as he looked at her with his head turned away from the screen.

"And how do you propose that?" He asked, his voice crackling.

"I plan on having him be disguised as UNSC personnel, as a sort of observer." She told him.

"Huh, someone from ONI? The kid's seven years old! There's no way he can be-" He said right as Halsey sent him a photograph of Michael in his current stage of growth. Mendez stopped speaking and blinked as he looked closer.

"Holy cow, look at him." He commented.

"He's as big as me, Chief." She told him. His mouth dropped.

"He's growing fast," He said.

"I have no idea how tall he'll be when he reaches eighteen or older," She said, honestly.

"I can only imagine he'll be as big as a garbage truck," She commented.

"That kid," Mendez sighed. Halsey had to grin inwardly. Sheng must've told him stories about the subject and what he could do.

"He scares me, y'know? When ORION-I was up, we couldn't do a quarter of the things that he could do." He said.

"I'll make the necessary preparations, provided he doesn't screw up the training exercise we have coming up."

"And that is?" She asked.

"A trip through the forest," Mendez told her.

 **Ω**

Michael didn't smile outwardly during the ride to CASTLE base onboard the Pelican from ASGARD. Sheng sat across from him with a UNSC Marine with the rank of Corporal that wore the standard BDU (Battle Dress Uniform) for a Marine on guard duty. His name-tag read Scafaza. He looked at Michael with interest, curiosity, and a bit of unease. But, inwardly, he was grinning like a champion. It worked! It actually worked! After about several weeks of planning and thought, it finally worked!

He refused to do the tests for the past week, only to speak with Halsey when she came back from CASTLE base. From there, he would try to convince her to letting him see the others at CASTLE base. He had rehearsed and thought of every word he would say in his head, every gesture, every look, even. All to convince her.

Michael knew that in a battle of wits and augments he would never win against doctor Halsey. He was good, but when mentally prepared and calm doctor Halsey could bury him like a landslide. She would start by slowly pointing out the flaws of his reasoning, then horribly butcher his ideas and then completely undermine his conviction.

So his only hope is to caught her in a state of mind vulnerable enough to let his attack conquer a slim of ground before calm her down by appeasing her more 'motherly' side. There were only two state of mind that could be useful in this situation: fear and anger. Since having Halsey fear him was _not_ a valuable solution, anger was the answer to his problem. And it worked!

It was a performance worthy of an ancient Roman orator. Of course, he wouldn't be caught dead leading the Romans conquering the Gaels. If anything, he would happily slay things other than humans, though rebels came pretty close considering they slaughtered their fellow man in cold pleasure.

He had sworn to the doctor and Chief Sheng that he would tell them if there were any more visions about the future. And he had meant his word, but there was something that had been bothering him among the countless and very vivid things that he saw of the things to come. Among them had been a very particular one that he saw every night for the six weeks before he put his plan into motion. He remembered it very well.

 _It was dark and damp, he felt raindrops fall on his face, watering his eyes, his trousers was wet with mud and thunder exploded above him._

 _He was running. He was afraid, alone in the wilderness._

 _No, not alone. The shadows of the forest filched like hungry predators that gave chase, at every turn there were shadows that moved behind the massive pine trees, the thorny branches of the bushes cut on his face, arms and legs._

 _Blood flow and mixed with rain and mud._

 _The boy was crying now. Knowing that he was the last one, and that the scent of blood would undoubtedly attract the beast. He had run for so long his breath was shallow and his legs were trembling._

 _He fell, hit the dirt with a loud thump. His head had meet the ground rather harshly he was seeing stars._

 _Then a crack in the woods. Louds thumps and shallow breaths of something big was approaching._

 _The boy turned to scream as gleaming teeth came towards him. The roar of the beast was muffled by the thunder storm._

The Spartan-II wanted to frown. He had to see if the vision was true, and if he was correct... something terrible was going to happen to one of his future comrades. He wanted to curl his balls into fists. He could've told Halsey and Sheng who would've told Mendez, but what would they do?

Halsey had told him in his second month that there were bound to be 'dropouts'. By that, he could only guess. He wasn't aware of anyone that was dead... at least, not yet. He saw very vivid deaths in his dreams of the green-armored warriors.

He had familiarized himself, during his stay at ASGARD, with the profiles of every one of the candidates of the first class of the Spartan-II program. Unfortunately, the actual number of people that were supposed to have been chosen for it were dropped into seventy-five from the one hundred and forty-five. Fortunate, yet also sad. He was looking forward to fighting alongside a whole company of men and women that would someday be like him.

He knew their dislikes and likes, psychological profiles, birthdays, and their hometowns/worlds. He had a few ideas on whom, if he ever really did integrate with the Spartan-II program fully: whom would be his second-in-command. For starters, there was John-117, a tenacious and inspiring leader of Blue Team, comprising of Kelly-087 and Sam-034. Of course, Michael found it odd that the teams were so unevenly divided up. Green Team comprised close to a quarter of the first class, there were other teams like Team Black consisting of Margaret-054, Otto-031, Roma-143, and Victor-101, as well as Gray Team (Jai-006, Adriana and Mike). Red Team was made up of nine members.

However, Blue team towered over all the rest in just about every exercise that he read about. All after a particular incident in which John-117 had through selfishness, arrived 'first' whereas his team arrived last. He learned his lesson and he wound up recovering from his mistake. From then on, he led his team to victory. Well, save when they were going against Green Team on one-team-versus-one-team matches involving hand-to-hand combat. They would have a lot more to learn in the coming years.

The Pelican landed with a 'thump' as it landed at the landing pad on CASTLE's grounds. The hatch opened, lowering the ramp. Michael smiled as he walked out of the Pelican, putting on his cover.

"Don't get too comfortable," Sheng warned.

"You're taking that uniform off, first thing when we get back." He whispered in his ear.

"I'll enjoy it while it lasts, Chief." Michael answered his scolding. He took a breath of fresh air, tired of smelling recycled stale air from ASGARD. It smelled like summer. Two MPs walked up to him with their Magnums holstered.

"Sir," They saluted him. He snapped a crisp salute along with Chief Sheng. The Corporal also saluted as well.

"We have orders to escort you to the training area. If you will follow us, sir." The first MP said.

"Of course. Lead the way, Staff Sergeant." Michael said, nodding. He walked forward, following them. They went inside CASTLE base and found themselves walking through a score of hallways.

Michael knew that CASTLE base also functioned as a Officer Candidate School, however, the school was currently used for the training and education of the first class of the Spartan-II program.

He found himself going through several checkpoints for weapons, of which there were none on his person. His fake identity was later checked on the computer, he then was allowed to pass with his escort. His fake record was meant to conceal his existence from open access data and evade scrutiny from any level from the military below five. He was after all a beyond top secret asset of ONI, and they are not keen to share their toys with others .

They arrived at their destination after going through a hatch leading to the outside, the other side that the Pelican Michael and his party had been on couldn't land on as the trainees were doing their exercises.

He was greeted by an expansive area that stretched for a good long while. There was a jogging track, some kind of obstacle course in the distance along with some kind of other facility in the distance. You could see the forest in the distance with its leaves growing green. Yet again, he found himself missing home.

He missed the forest near his family's house, exploring the area in his early days. He remembered meeting the local wildlife and fishing with Grandpa and Dad. He remembered their tales of fishing in their younger years and talking about when they were children.

As he thought of home, he found himself going towards a sort of outside gym. There was a line of people doing push-ups... only they weren't adults. He could tell a mile away that the higher-pitched voices were that of children, both boys and girls. They were a lot smaller than him, all having their hair cropped short. Their skin color varied as did their accents as they all huffed and puffed doing push-ups. He saw a group of instructors watching them with steely eyes, looking for any sign of weakness. They wore black and held stun batons.

He saw among the instructors that stood over the trainees a familiar face. Mendez looked up with his Sweet Williams cigar in his mouth as Michael walked over with his escort. The two MPs left him and Mendez walked up to Michael as they stood about ten and a half yards away from the trainees.

"Sir," Mendez said, saluting. Michael saluted back, grinning like an idiot. His tone however betrayed his slight anger.

"I hope you're not wearing that when you get back to ASGARD," Mendez said to him softly as Scafaza stood a bit away from him for privacy.

"No, sir. Just for today and maybe before I leave." He said before adding 'sir'. Mendez bit into his cigar as he glared at him.

"You wanted to meet 'em? There they are." Mendez said, pointing to them.

"But, you're prohibited from talking to them. Not even so much as a damned 'hello', got it?" Mendez told him. Michael nodded.

"Of course, sir." Michael said, nodding. He then started walked to the side to see them up close, but far away enough that they wouldn't get a good look at his face. Sheng, his escort and Mendez were beside him. Michael saw their faces in person for the first time, though he stood at about a hundred meters away. One of them was slacking towards the back of the line. An instructor encouraged him with a hit from his baton. Michael winced as he heard the kid scream in pain. In an ideal and perfect world, none of this would happen. But, it wasn't an ideal world.

"Soldiers! Flight and hut!" one of the instructor commanded loudly. All the little soldiers stopped their pushup and immediatelly took the parade position.

Michael was not _looking_ at them, he was marveling at them. The fatigued and sweaty children stood in a perfect attention position with their fist on their side. None of them moved or lamented their fatigue as they stood perfectly still and in silence. They all have a perfect form, their bodiesshowed some muscle after months of brutal training delivered by their sergeant instructors.

The sergeant instructors gave the military salute to Mendez.

"At Ease." Mendez reply. All together the young recruits took the rest position. Again, Michael found no fault in their movements as they moved with certainty and rigidity. Their hills are twelve inches apart, staring and on line with their hands behind their back.

 _Perfection._

So Mendez thought too as he nodded his approval. "You have all made your staff sergeants proud today. So we are rewarding you with a visit."

"This is Michael-002," Mendez indicated the supersoldier on his right. "As his namesake, he is one of the first batch of cadets who successfully completed his course as a Spartan-II. He will be one of your comrades when you have all reached the end of your training."

Micheal felt the eyes of the children on him. At first thought, he wanted to introduce himself to them, tell them whom he was: what they were doing their training for as well as their purpose. He wanted to tell them that he would be honored to lead and fight by them side-by-side in battle against their enemies. But, true to his word, he didn't say a word. He looked back at them.

"That is all." And with that it was over.

"Back to exercise! We'll start with twenty laps around the base!" The chief instructor screamed his order and the children began to trot behind him.

"Brutal," Michael said, his eyes showing pain.

"But necessary," He reluctantly admitted, nodding as he spoke softly. He then did a head count as they ran.

"There were seventy-five trainees... why are there only seventy-one?" Michael asked, looking at Mendez.

"We had dropouts," Mendez said, without looking at him.

"You're lucky, son. These kids have it a lot worse than you: two of them suffered fractured spines as a result of some of the training exercises, one kid had a psychological breakdown and the last one's in a coma." At this, Michael's face became even more worried. It was _that_ bad? How many more would go out like that?

"Are there any exercises being planned for tonight or tomorrow?" He asked, 'curious'. Sheng eyed him suspiciously.

"We're having them be split up into teams and find an exit point in a forest a ways from here, about seventy-five klicks south-east of here." Mendez explained. Michael nodded.

"Any wildlife in that area, sir?" He asked as well.

"Well, there's wolves, bears, that sort of thing: Earth-imported stuff from the conservation efforts of the time when Reach was first settled." Mendez told him, thinking. Michael then had a thought.

"Isn't there a creature native to Reach called a 'Guta'?" He asked.

"'Guta'?" Mendez asked, looking at him with slight bewilderment. He scoffed and shook his head.

"Nah, can't be around there. I heard there were some floods recently where a Guta group or groups live, but that's it. I don't think they would move over three hundred clicks just to go all the way over there."

"Will they be monitored during the exercise?" Michael asked, careful to hide any tone of compassion for the trainees.

"Funny how I left out the part where as they're escaping the forest: they're going to get hounded by instructors with camouflage and traps." Mendez told him.

Michael whistled as he looked at them.

"Wow... you guys are going full on Ancient Sparta." Michael commented.

"Speak for yourself, trainee." Mendez told him.

"Also, you're probably going to have to stay here tonight." Mendez told him.

"Why?" Michael asked.

"Storm's coming from the east and then it's going to be all over. I doubt you're the cause of it, though." Mendez told him. The Spartan-II smiled in his head. Perfect cover.

"Hey, does the last one who exfils not get any dinner or-?" Michael started to ask.

"Yep," Mendez told him.

"As I thought," Michael said, nodding.

"Like I said: you're lucky." Mendez told him.

"We'll see," Michael told him, thinking.

About ten minutes later, as Mendez went off to prepare the class for their exercise: Michael had a talk with Sheng.

"I know what you're thinking, kid." Sheng started his lecture as they were in his quarters.

"I'm telling you right now: _don't do it_." Sheng warned him.

"I'm not doing anything," Michael lied to him, shaking his head.

"Don't play 'innocent' with me, son. I know you're going to do something funny tonight. And I'm saying: you better not do it." Sheng then went up to his face.

"Because if you do: I'll make sure that it won't be push-ups and the usual exercise routines: you're going into that damned forest: with your whole body rubbed in bacon and steak with every wild animal after you: especially Gutas!" Sheng warned. Michael-002 looked at him with no expression and then shrugged.

"I don't plan on doing anything," He lied.

"Mind if I go get something to eat from the mess hall? I'm starving." Michael asked his instructor.

"Sure... with an escort." Sheng told him.

"Aye, sir." Michael said. Sheng went out of the room with him and told Scafaza his orders.

"He doesn't leave your sight, understood? He so much as diverts from the usual way to the mess hall: knock his teeth in." Sheng told him. Scafaza blinked.

"Sir?" He asked for clarification.

"You heard me," Sheng told him flatly. Michael stood next to Scafaza.

"Right, sir." Scafaza said, still not sure if he should do it in such a case.

"Now, off with you. You better be back in an hour!" Sheng told Michael. Michael nodded and walked away, smiling as his escort went off with him.

Sheng would wait longer than an hour and Scafaza would be found unconscious and propped on a toilet seat in a Mens' head. Another man, an ODST assigned to be an instructor watching one of the teams that were out for the night was found in a dumpster outside the base... in his underwear with his gear gone. Needless to say, Mendez was pissed when he found out


	10. Chapter 10: Grendel

**Chapter 10**

 **(A/N: At long-last, Battle-Brothers! It has come out: The Tenth Chapter! Ave Imperator! Hope you all like it! Let me know how to improve it.)**

 _Reach_

 _Epsilon Indi_

 _Inner Colonies_

 _Human space_

The storm had come from the north-west, lightning struck the ground in various spots of the forest. Hiding on a ridge overlooking a sizeable swath or at least, what they could see without trees getting into the way, a three-man team of men in black ODST Battle Dress Uniforms that were colored in green and brown fatigues that matched the forest around them. Their helmets' visors were polarized. A quiet trill was heard twice, signaling the end of the 3 hours' exercise.

"Time's up. White team's lost." Lance Corporal Arthur Di'Angelo said to the other as he turned to glance to his watch. Jason-149 of the four-man team of White Team get caught in a snare in which his foot went into a rope on the ground, having it close around him and then sending the child up into the sky with a yell.

"Who betted on White team?" asked Sargent Preston Manus to his squad mates.

"Me" Herman said. Their speech was on a team-communication channel. Only they could hear it. Various other teams of instructors were scattered around the exercise area of operations. Each team was to harass the teams of children striving to get to the exfiltration point.

For the past eleven months, the only winners of these usual exercises was Blue Team, most of the time. The instructors had given up betting on the actual first-place winners and now betted on who would be second or third place. Last place? Those who were that way, usually ended up with no dinner and starving stomachs.

"Your turn to offer the next round." Preston said with a smug voice.

"What about Red?" Arthur asked, tilting his head.

"It's slaking. They reached the extraction point on one hour and twelve minutes' margin, eighteen minutes later than their previous score. They can't even make it to third now" Herman complained.

"Well, I lost half of my paycheck last time on Red!" Preston groaned. His teammates chuckled at that, finding his misfortune amusing. they won a lot of money that day. Then, his head looked up.

"Alpha-Bravo to Magic, over." the crackle of the radio was heard on their helmets' internal speakers.

"Here, Magic." Herman responded with his automatic voice.

"The exercise is concluded. Round up all the dead lasts and return to the base. Report in twenty minutes. Over and out."

"Roger that, Alpha-Bravo." Then the Sargent closed the com link.

"What is White team's status." Herman asked to his sniper.

The sniper of the team looked on his thermal scope of his rifle. The cadets were five hundred meters from their position.

"Still incapacitated." Arthur reply sounded almost exasperated. The heat signature of white team was a little smear of brownish-red color while the surrounding area was adorned with a cold blue. The temperature had severely drop down due to the moister in the air and the heavy rain that impede the sniper vision with his advanced thermal scope. The motion sensor implemented in the suit was also unusable, as it registered thousands of contacts on his range due to the rain. It was also starting to get dark.

"Round them up. I want to return before I get soaked like a sponge."

"Aye sir. Preston, you don't mind if I take your ride for the weekend, do you? You still have to pay me for the last bet."

"Fuck you, Arthur."

Arthur chuckled, embraced his weapon and exited form the makeshift outpost. His figure entered the dense bushes of the forest and disappeared a mere thirty meters away.

"Damn weather." Herman cursed. Rivers of water washed down over his helmet, moisture was creeping inside the lens due to the heat of his breath and obfuscating his vision. Another thing to add on his frustrations beside the cold and the rain. He removed his helmet with a grunt and let his shaved head get wet by the heavy rain.

"You'd think they'd learn with all that training they had in the past seven months." Preston joked.

"They're kids, Preston. Barely above eight," The Sargent toke a pack of cigarettes and picked one from the deck. He covered his lighter with his hand and light it up. "by the time they will reach fifteen I'll be surprised if they even remember their names."

"Having second thoughts, Sarge?"

Sargent Herman took a breath from his cigarette and allowed his mind to drift. His new job wasn't different from the other. He used to supervise the formation of fresh cadets forms the Navy. He knew how to break a man, grind him by the weight of his efforts until he either survive and become a Marine or drop out. But the recruits were usually already legal adults and lest anyone not forget that they were also consenting to their own training.

But _children_? It's obvious ONI was pushing to create something, perhaps some kind of black ops unit or assassination squad. It seems they are taking the Innis rumor of a revolution on the external colonies seriously. But no matter how morbid that sounded, the Innies were a problem that must be dealt with before the boiling pot explode. And if ONI needed a weapon, who was he to judge? He had a wife and son of sixteen on the Outer colony of Biko, and his revenue was big enough not to think about it. He also knew better to speak about it when it was ONI who delivered the paycheck.

"No, at all. But I don't think they will be as effective as the ODST."

"You think they'll break? Like that kid." Preston said, referring to a kid last month that had a mental breakdown. He was on suicide watch.

"I think they will be great at whatever they are meant to be, although they will have a baggage of mental scars. But that is the problem of the higher ups, not ours. They are their creatures, let them deal with the consequences."

"Harsh times when we are talking like that about kids."

"Hump. You are one to talk, you took this job without much of a though- "Herman head shifted to the right.

"Yea I know, but you did too when you saw the increase of two zero in- " His comrade said before being cut off.

"Shut up." The sergeant voice interrupted his comrade from his monologue rather harshly.

"Wha- "

"Shh!" Herman shushed him.

Thunder roared as the rain poured from its pregnant habitat. The two men could only watch with tense anticipation of what was about to happen.

"Check your scanners." Herman commanded to his caporal.

Preston picked up his rifle and activated his helmet thermal vision and did a quick scan to the perimeter, but the cold completely pervaded the landscape, shrouding the imagine in blue. The motion sensor wasn't any help either as the heavy drops of water were driving the scanner crazy reporting multiple unexisting targets.

"What's the matter?" Asked Preston. His Sergeant looked on edge all of a sudden.

"I heard something from behind us." The Sergeant reached his rifle and removed the safety. It could be nothing, it could be that the wind had broken some branches. In the worst case it could be animals, in that case the rubber bullets would surely scare away the likes of small predators like wolves. If it was a bear though, his service pistol was loaded with forty five millimeter bullets.

They stayed in silence while listening to any sound coming from around them. Darkness had now fallen over the forest and the rain concealed any sound around their post. A thunderstorm can be a good cover for operatives in special operations that wants to pass unnoticed by their enemy. However, right now they were the ones in a position of a possible ambush.

Preston was about to make a rather crude comment when they heard the breaking of branches in the distance as loud as a thunder clap. It was close to their position.

"Maybe, it's Gamma squad?" Preston asked.

"They would have advised us on the radio, " Herman eliminated that possibility.

"Some animal then?" he asked, his left hand left the guard of his rifle and reached his pistol holder.

"I'm not sure..." It sounded bigger.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the forest. That is when they saw it. The thing was big, about as big as a Scorpion tank, maybe bigger. It leaned heavily on its long arms like a gorilla and something swished behind it. That was when they realized the sheer impossibility of it and yet, it stared hungrily at them in the face by the distance of a quarter of a football field!

 **XXX**

Arthur was a mere sixty meters away when all hell broke loose.

" _AAAAAAAAAH!"_ the scream cut through the night like a knife through butter. Artur immediately turned around, his eyes wide by shock.

"Sargent, what's your status?!" Arthur called using his teammates channel.

 _BAM!... BAM-BAM!_

A loud roar answered it followed by a scream.

Horror filled Arthur's mind as he immediately recognized the live rounds of the service pistol. He spirited back towards the outpost with all haste. He huffed as he went over the hill to see something big chomping down on something else.

He froze. It was a massive thing: about three meters tall. Its body was bulky and had a tail. Its skin was the color of cream and its jaws could rip a man in two. One punch from its fist would break a person's body and its tail was powerful enough to send a small sedan a few yards down a street.

Such a thing lived hundreds of kilometers here to the south. There had been reports of a flood but nothing else... save rumors that there were gigantic crocodiles among the locals in that region. Crocodiles that ate men whole and spat out their remains in huge shit-piles, if scuttlebutt was heard right. Of course, those were just crazy rumors.

The Guta must've been hungry as it chomped down on a man, either Preston or Herman, he didn't know. It looked up at him with red meat coming out of its mouth as it chewed. He stood frozen with fear before firing his side-arm, the only thing that had any effect on it. He bolted just as it re-adjusted its body to take down its new prey. He fired his service pistol behind him as he ran, only to find it bolt at him like an alligator.

XXX

Jason-149 dropped to the floor with a huff after being freed from the trap. His head went straight to the ground as it fell and he felt the dirt stick to his face. He grunted in anger as he got up. Mud covered his sun-tanned face as he glared at the other three members of his team. The rain came pouring down like cats, dogs, and pitchforks.

"You took your sweet time getting me out!" He roared at his teammates as he took off the cut piece of rope that used to hold him about ten feet off of the ground. All of them gave him a weary look, especially the leader as she came down from the tree with a survival knife she had stolen from somewhere. How Mendez hadn't caught her was a mystery.

"I'm not the one who lost the stupid map and got us lost in the first place! We're going to go in last _again_! And we're not going to eat _again_!" Sarai-009 retorted as she emphasized the words 'again'. Her clay-brown skin almost mixed well with the mud as her gray eyes accused her teammate. The other two groaned.

"I haven't had so much as a piece of bread in about three days!" Tyler-091 said, raising his three fingers. His cream skin was marred by scratches on his face and his blue eyes showed hunger and worry.

"Do you realize how many times I got hit by an instructor because I couldn't keep up in PT?!" Tyler rhetorically asked Jason as he pointed to himself.

"Look, it's not my fault! Those instructors came out of nowhere and-" Jason started to say in his own defense.

"You lost the map because you were too busy goofing off as-" Mikaela-131 started to put in her two cents as well. Her face was covered in welts from the rubber bullets by the instructors that harassed them. The others had similar marks, but none so much as her. One of the funny, but also mean rumors was because the adults thought she was too ugly to be a Spartan and only got in because Halsey needed someone to have on the bottom of the totem pole.

"Shut it, Mikaela!" Tyler snapped at her. All of them were angry and tired as they hadn't had dinner in three days.

"Y'know what would've been great? If we just followed Blue team out of here,"Sarai sighed, shaking her head as she looked up at the sky.

"Why? You like John?" Tyler teased her. She looked at him with a glare.

"Say that again, and I kill you and leave your body for the Gutas!" She threatened. The others looked at her in fear. She wouldn't do that to a fellow teammate would she? They stopped arguing and Sarai realized what she had said. She rubbed her muddy face. The training clothes that they wore were torn and ripped to near-shreds by the thorn bushes and briar patches along with the trees. They knew from their classes about survival like food and such. Weapons? Well, not so much. They didn't know how to use spears and they couldn't climb trees like monkeys, obviously. There was that one kid, Mark-0148 whom climbed a tree and wound up falling from the top of it to the ground, resulting in a coma from a spinal fracture.

"Guys," She said.

"I'm sorry," She apologized.

"We're tired, lost, and hungry. Let's just see if we can find anything that points to the exfil point and get out of here before wolves get us or we go in last!" She said. The others looked at each other and nodded.

"Right," They all agreed. Sarai knew she wasn't John, but she could be a leader too!

"I can't tell what time it is as it's a stormy night," She said, shaking her head. She had loved using the ancient ways of navigating by stars that old Earth sailors used to use back in those sea-faring days. It was a bit of a remnant of her living out in Boston Harbor before being conscripted. Another person from Earth was Randall-037. Of course, they grew up across an entire ocean.

Then, she heard it in the distance. All of them listened to the sound of howling.  
"OH FOR FRICK'S SAKE!" Tyler roared in anger.

"Get rocks! Get rocks and form a circle!" Sarai ordered as they hurried to gather as many small rocks as they could to defend themselves while she wielded her own knife, pointed down as she got into a fighting stance. The four formed a circle, holding three rocks in one hand with another holding yet another rock that lay scattered. They all looked around. Wolves hunted in packs and hunted stronger prey as a pack. And a team of children was more than enough for a good meal for them.

They stared out into the forest as the rain came pouring down. Lightning strikes provided brief glimpses of visibility as they felt cold. They hoped and prayed that their bodies would be cold permanently before they were eaten.

XXX

Arthur ran as fast as as he could firing his silenced pistol at the thing. He heard it roar behind him. Then, he felt a massive claw hit him, sending him flying away into a tree, the gun flew from his hand. His body slammed hard into the tree, the sounds of bone snapping as he felt a searing pain in his back. He screamed in pain as he couldn't feel his legs. He tried to keep away as he tried to keep focus despite the pain and fear. He looked up as the rain was pouring down.

"Oh, God." He whispered as the Guta crawled up to him, its blood-covered mouth watering. He felt himself panicking and breathed heavily. He took out his combat knife, prepared to make one last act of defiance against nature.

He saw his life flash before his eyes as it neared him. He saw himself playing with brothers and sisters, making love to his wife right after he graduated from Boot Camp, fighting against Insurrectionists on Eridanus II, signing on to be an instructor for the ORION-II program, and beating the kids with his baton.

Just then, howling was heard in the distance, snapping him from out of his flash-back. The Guta was right up to his face, so close that he could touch it and feel its hot breath on his helmet's visor. The Guta turned to the sound of it. More howling was heard: wolves. He looked over to where the howling was and saw that it was going away from him towards the howling right after it sniffed the air and then licked its jaws.

"Oh, shit." he whispered. The kids! It was going after the kids! He threw his knife after it, only for it to fall short of it as it went after its new prey.

XXX

The rain and the storm weren't so much as a problem as Michael-002 jogged through the forest at a steady pace, mentally mapping the area around him in case he ever came here again as either punishment or part of an exercise. He put his chin on the intercom button under his neck as he listened into the COMs here. So far, nothing but static.

Storms had a tendency to take down comms, as proven by history. He mentally probed the area around him and sensed for anyone in trouble: anyone, save himself.

He was taking a big risk doing this just to test and see how imminent the vision he had was.. but he just HAD to know if it was true or not. After knocking out that ODST back at CASTLE base, he put on the guy's gear and linked up with the man's team whom had no idea whom he was as they arrived at the exercise area. The team he was allegedly a part of was for watching Green Team. Of course, not wanting to hurt his fellow Spartans, he left the team by signalling that he had to take a dump. All those videos on the 'Net about military hand signals finally paid off, though the team of instructors had been suspicious.

Mendez was going to chew his ass out, Sheng would have him clean the latrine for about a year or two and Halsey would send his ass out into the woods or probably to Reach's moon without a vacuum suit to boot,or maybe even cut him open anyway and harvest him like there was no tomorrow. The possibilities of punishment were practically endless! Then again, saving a comrade's life? Totally worth it, in his opinion. How many men had defied orders to save their fellow man only to be punished and later exonerated for their actions? Of course, Michael found himself thinking he could be an exception.

So far, he sensed the initiatives of several teams of children all heading towards the exfil point to the south east of the forest. However, according to what he had heard from the instructors, there was a main round due north named 'Road of Shame' where the last folks to exfil went to go back home. In all, they really were trying hard to be like ancient Sparta, weren't they? What's next- having them all go out and kill wolves or even raise wolf-pups as they trained.

Michael stopped walking as he had that thought and looked up thinking. He scratched the chin of his helmet in place of his actual chin.

"Y'know... that's actually not a bad idea." he figured aloud, his voice crackling through the speakers of his ODST helmet. It'd teach them a bit of responsibility like taking care of your property or something akin to it... then again.. what if they were ordered to kill said pups? He then scrapped the idea.

"Nah," He shook his head. Never mind, no pups... though giving them to Halsey, Sheng, Mendez might soften them up as a sort of bribe. He grinned at that thought and then realized that they probably wouldn't give two literal shits and kick the puppies out anyway. Another idea scrapped thanks to common sense.

He sighed as he looked down at his gun. This MA5B had been outfitted with rubber bullets, not much help when dealing with animals like wolves or even bears. Gutas? Well, he'd deal with that particular demon when the time came or if it ever came. Then again: this was the wilderness and there was a flood a while back.

He continued his psychic sweep and expanded his range over the area as he closed his eyes and concentrated. A huge chunk of kids were on their way to the exfil point now. They were all tired, hungry, and most likely covered in welts from rubber bullet impacts. He found himself wondering.. why rubber? Why not say- paintballs or airsoft pellets? Those worked from time to time and the bruises they left lasted days to weeks. Then again, this was Mendez's idea for an exercise. Michael wondered if this was one of the original SPARTAN-I exercises?

There was however, an interesting development down in the south west. He felt fear, confusion, hunger, and anger briefly by humans... children most likely. South of that, had been a few moments of fear, greed, and what else have you and then was completely overtaken by panic and hunger of something else, something _big_.

He never felt fear. Not even once. He felt concerned and something akin to anxious, but never afraid. But, what was going on right now? It made him start to think that he could actually feel fear. Of course, not for himself, but for others.

He ran as quick as he could towards the direction of those that were afraid. He ran as fast, ever mindful of his vision.

XXX

They heard the wolves before they could see them. After that, they saw the silhouettes in among the foliage of the forest. They circled their prey from afar as the children got ready for a fight.

"How many do you think there are? Five? Six?" Jason asked.

"Jason, shut up and get ready to throw!" Sarai hissed as they looked for what to strike in their defense. If they missed a throw at the range the wolves were at then they'd be wolf-meat and then wolf-poop. The wolves then stopped circling and searching for weaknesses and began to walk towards their prey.

"Holy cow, they're huge!" Mikaela said in both awe and horror as she realized how big wolves could be. They came in two various colors as they approached: a dark gray and black color. But all of them had yellow eyes and were snarling as they stared hungrily at their prey. The humans stepped back as the wolves stepped forward until their backs were to each other. Then, a loud roar that was unlike anything they had ever heard carried over the storm. The wolves stopped in their tracks and then looked at the source. They stopped to listen, it seemed as their ears popped up to hear and twitched.

Then, as one, the pack of wolves left, fleeing and barking. The children panted as they listened for anything further. In the distance, tree branches were broken and something grumbling was heard.

"What exactly just happened?" Tyler asked aloud.

"I think we just exchanged wolves for something worse," Sarai said, thinking on what Jorge said about what was native to Reach.

 _"What could be worse than a pack of wolves?!"_ Mikaela asked aloud angrily. The grumbling got louder and louder until Tyler shouted.

"I see it! Look over there!" The other three looked to where he was pointing to see a shape that grew larger in appearance from the woods.

"What... is that?" Mikaela asked in awe as the shape got larger as it approached.

"That, I think, would be a Guta." Tyler said, pointing at it.

XXX

Michael heard the gunshots in the distance and ran. That sounded like Magnums, a lot more of a heavy sound than the 9-mils of five centuries ago, in his opinion. He heard a strange animal-like roaring as well. By now, mist was rolling in from the storm. Well, shit. This would make things interesting, now would it?

He knew that roar as he had studied its origin-creature back on Harvest: Guta, a local fauna species of Reach. Locals avoided them and the Gutas like-wise. They were usually in family groups, but it looked like this one was alone, if he was sensing things right. Must've traveled far to get away from the flooding near here. He sensed another presence as well: a pained presence that was in shock. He found himself going near a hill and saw the carcass of two men on the hill with a sniper rifle that was bent and broken. The carcasses wore ODST armor that had forest-camouflage on it. Both of them looked like they had been eaten alive with one head completely eaten off. He sighed and shook his head. He took both of their dog-tags... the first he would take in the years to come, for sure.

He looked out across the forest to listen. In the mist, he could see the faint outlines of somethings in the mist as well as howlings. Those were definitely Reach-variety of gray wolves.

The super-soldier smelled the blood and sweat in the air. He then went down the hill as he saw the tracks: both the deep impressions of the Guta and the smaller combat boot of ODST armor. He found a figure leaning against a tree, his legs unmoving and the figure panting as if in labor.

The Spartan-II ran up to the ODST and kneeled down. The man looked up, his helmet's visor de-polarizing. Michael saw the man's black face looking at him in pain.

"Are you alright, marine?" Michael asked, his voice deep enough to be like that of a man.

"It hurts so bad!" The man said through clenched teeth.

"What happened?"

"A Guta," The man said, pained.

"It came out of the woods after the siren sounded." He winced as he tried to move.

"I was supposed to get the kids over to Dead-Last Road for a chew-out from Mendez."

"Are the others in your team around?" The man shook his head in response.

"The Guta got 'em all," The man said, sadly. Michael sighed.

"What the hell was that thing doing here anyway?! Their grounds are hundreds of klicks south of here!" The man exclaimed as he winced in pain.

"What of the candidates you were watching?" Michael asked, concerned.

"They're over there! In that clearing about a klick from here!" The man said, pointing a shaking arm.

"You've got to hurry! It's going to eat 'em all!" The instructor said, concerned.

"Right," Michael said, nodding. He then put his speakers to internal and had his chin touch the activation button. He had the channel go to the nearby base. Hopefully, he could get through.

"Alpha-Bravo," He started to say. He had heard the name from an ODST squad he briefly hung out with during his cover.

"This is Thunder." He said, looking at the sky with his eyes. "How copy?" he said.

A voice on the COM channel answered, that of an older man.

 _"Solid copy, Thunder. What's your status? Over."_ The man asked.

"Request medevac now. Two KIA: wild animal is the cause. Have one WIA. He won't die." Michael reported the co-ordinates afterwards, adding 'Over'.

 _"Roger. Request received and accepted, Thunder. Over."_ The voice said. There was a long pause.

"Thunder, Alpha-Bravo: ETA for Medevac is five mikes. Over." The man stated. Michael breathed a sigh of relief before the man then started the next line of contact.

 _"Inquisitive: Who is this? I know for a fact that there's a unit codenamed 'Thunder' about ten klicks to the north-west of your current position. Over._ " Michael-002 cut the channel. He placed a hand on the shoulder of the ODST.

"Medevac's coming: five mikes." He stated.

"Thanks," The Marine said, happily. Michael nodded and turned to walk away before the Marine asked after him.

"Hey, whom sent you?" The Marine asked, looking up at him.

"My team, Marine." Michael stated, leaving the confused and wounded Marine. He then bolted for the clearing, full-speed as he could. He heard the screams.

XXX

They all stood frozen with fear.

"A Guta," Jason-149 whispered in fear.

"I thought they lived far from here!" He whispered frantically to Mikaela.

"Jorge told me they lived away from humans and avoided them usually." She whispered back.

"What do we do?!" Tyler asked, horrified. All of them stood frozen with fear as the Guta looked at them hungrily, its jaws mysteriously red with blood. Human? Animal? Sarai didn't want to think.

"Run!" Sarai shouted, gripping her knife as she gestured. The others stood still as it got ready to pounce on its prey.

"All of you run!" She shouted for the others, pushing them. Then, they all bolted away from the monster, running like the Christian Devil was after them. They started screaming as they heard the thing run after them.

Sarai-009 never thought her life would end like this... or that of the others in White Team. She had only been training for close to the past year for her future career as a soldier in the program. Now, like the other four kids that all 'dropped-out'. She would be considered also a 'wash-out': digested in some monster's belly, only to be crapped out a day or two later as waste, with her family not knowing her fate.

She felt its hot breath on her back as her feet went across the muddy ground. The others going ahead of her. Sarai felt herself run like hell and then found herself tripping on a root, as she had not paid attention. She crashed to the muddy ground, more fresh mud, caking her face. She looked up, knife in hand. She was about to strike at its oncoming face and then she saw its jaws reach for her head. She froze with fear. Right as its open, hot maw was about to close in on her entire head and decapitate it before swallowing her fearful face: the Guta's head jerked to the side as though struck. She turned to see a figure of average height and yet bulky, taller than her and the other children, fire an MA5B rifle at the monster.

 _"All of you!"_ The figure roared in a deep voice of a man as he fired the hundred-round clip.

 _"Get out of its sight!"_ The man roared, the crackle of electronic speakers was heard in his voice. The armor was forest-grayish-green. The monster turned to face him and roared at him.  
XXX

The Spartan-II smiled as he faced his enemy from a certain distance. He had been in time, like the heroes of old legends gone by. He fired at it for a brief burst of about twenty rounds. It looked at him hungrily, towering over him though it was the length of about a quarter of a football field. The dogtags hung from his waist as a reminder of the animal's ravenous victory.

He had fired just as its maw was about to close on that girl's head. He had seen her before hours earlier. If memory served, and that mud was washed away: that was Sarai-009 of White Team looking at him. It was great to save a future comrade. He had no doubt at the way that she was about to strike it that she would at some point in time be a contender for master of knife-fighting with Frederic-104. However, she clearly lacked speed and her team had run off-scared.

Clearly, there were times to run and times to fight. The team had done right in running... but one day: they would stop running as children and fight as grown-ups... like _Spartans_.

"Let's dance!" Michael roared at it. Above his head, lightning crackled in the gray-sky.


	11. Chapter 11: Grendel and A Spartan

Chapter 11

(A/N: Let me know how it looks!)

 _ **2518**_

 _ **Reach**_

 _ **Epsilon Indi**_

 _ **Outer Colonies**_

 _ **Human Space**_

MCPO Juan Sheng gritted his teeth as he cursed. He was going to kill that damn freak when he saw him again for the stunts he was pulling. First, he knocked out his escort, then knocked out an instructor and took his armor to disguise himself.

The light from the conference room burned both of their skins as they stood in silence right before his colleague spoke.

"And you're sure the kid didn't say anything to you about his plans?" Frank Mendez asked him, angrily. Sheng shook his head.

"No," Sheng answered in the same tone. Both of them were in a secure conference room in CASTLE base. Neither of them sat down. This wasn't the time for relaxation.

"He knocks out two highly-trained Marines and then steals a suit of ODST armor, all to go out and meet the other kids? That much we can gather?" Mendez asked for reassurance and more information.

"Pretty much, then again, the kid started acting strange in the past two weeks before this."

"Halsey filled me in on that, yeah." Mendez said, nodding. The two sighed.

"He was acting up for the past two weeks..." Juan said, thinking.

"Kid must've been planning this for a few weeks before. Must've spent all that time on the 'Net getting smart, obviously." His comrade said, rubbing his chin.

"Halsey's definitely grounding his sorry ass when he gets back," Mendez smiled.

"And cutting him open," Juan added. He remembered Watson and Stone talking about the possibilities of vivisecting Michael. The kid's organs, muscle tissue, skeleton... all of it was definitely a lot more advanced than originally thought. Whoever genetically engineered him wasn't kidding or playing around. It was like someone took Halsey's idea of re-starting the ORION project and then made his or her own twists on it from literal scratch. Watson had run a search on what DNA Michael had been based on: nothing came up. It was like someone had just made him right out of existence.

"So, we're going to use him to augment the others, pretty much?"

"Samples of his organs were tested for the past few months. Now, they want to take him apart and use his organs to make better implants for the rest of the class." Mendez told him.

"Shit, so we're scrapping him for parts." Juan muttered.

"I almost pity the poor bastard," He added.

"Yeah," Mendez said, nodding. "Looks like it, if Halsey's _that_ pissed about him."

"His old man's going to be pissed _if_ he finds out about it," Juan told Mendez. ONI had a way of covering things up. There were things that not even the President of the UEG knew about... things only Admiral Parangovsky, the old snake, had in that head of hers.

"Yeah," He repeated, looking away. He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He wondered how he would deal with it when the time came for him to meet his former comrade... if that ever happened.

"Just then, both of their ear-pieces buzzed.

"Master Chief, this is Davens. You should know that we received word from someone claiming to be call-sign 'Thunder' in the southwest section of the AO." An older man said. He then said the grid-co-ordinates.

"To be exact, sir." Davens added. Mendez put the mike away from his mouth as he spoke aloud. Sometimes it helped, other times not.

"And the real Thunder's location would be..." Mendez looked up in thought.

"North east of there. The mission's done, so the other instructors should be rounding up all the trainees by now." Mendez said.

"Sounds like White team lost their map," Sheng sighed.

"Yeah, they've been last for the past three missions. If they don't get out of dead-last then they're not going to eat for a while," Mendez told Sheng.

" Chief, we also received word from the imposter that two members of Magic team, in that AO, were KIA with a third member WIA. I put in the word for a MEDEVAC already, sir. It'll be over there in about ten mikes." The Gunny reported.

He frowned. Two KIA and a third WIA... that didn't sound like the kid's style. No. This was something else. Wolves wouldn't do this either... unless... he realized what was going on.

"Why that little," Mendez muttered, shaking his head. He put the mike back into place over his mouth.

"MEDEVAC is oscar-mike, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Have the MEDEVAC be advised that there may be a wild Guta in that area," Mendez told him. Sheng's head bolted up like it was hit by lightning. He canceled the com-link as soon as the order was received and acknowledged.

"He wasn't just over here to see the kids," Mendez told him as he had now realized the truth. Sheng tilted his head as Mendez explained.

"He was here to save White team. Looks like he had another vision and 'forgot' to tell Halsey about it. Either he's getting a medal," Frank said.

"-or Halsey will have him cut up." Sheng finished as he shook his head. That kid was crazy.

XXX

The Guta looked at its new prey with eager and ravenous eyes. It had interrupted its killing bite and so it must pay with its own life! It roared in challenge to its smaller opponent. The two-legged prey laughed a hearty and deep laughing to mock it. It growled in response.

XXX

Michael-002 laughed in response to the Guta's roar. If it was trying to scare him, it didn't. If anything, it would make killing it a lot better. Before he was conscripted, he had always wanted to kill monsters like in the fairy tales or legends that he read. Now was his chance. Halsey was either going to be impressed with this or she'd still be pissed. Unless of course, he brought back the Guta's skull and slammed it right on her desk.

'Look, Doc! I got this just for you!' he imagined himself saying. Of course, when Chief Sheng would meet him... he'd most likely sock him in the face. To which he'd happily suffer the punishment. Unless, of course, Halsey cut him apart and renege on the deal. That wouldn't be very nice.

He looked at Sarai-009 as she looked up at him in awe. He sighed. Seriously?! She was hero-worshipping right now?!

"Get out of here right now!" Michael yelled at her, waving for her to get away. The Guta charged at him like a bull. He rolled to the side right as it was about three feet in front of him. The monster swiped his claws at him to grab him, missing him by just an inch. He rolled and then spun, firing his MA5B at it, emptying his clip. The bullets went against its skin. The rounds felt like mere pebbles being thrown at high speed, enraging it further. Michael tossed the gun aside, deciding to use his fists. It was high time he fought _something_.

The Spartan sped to the Guta and punched it in the face before it could strike. A loud 'pop' was heard and the sound of bones being broken was also heard. The thing's head went violently to the sides as it was punched in the head, pops still being heard.

"What does it take to kill this damn thing?!" He angrily roared in Asanagu. The thing swung at him, making him duck and then punch the thing in its side. It roared in pain as it staggered. Then, it swung again, knocking him down before he rolled right as it was about to grab him again. Michael then swung-kicked as hard as he could with his strength, kicking its left leg, making the Guta fall. He then went towards the monster's tail and grabbed it, again using his growing strength. The thing struggled to get up as it realized it was being lifted.

"Round we go," He said, grunting. Damn, this thing was heavy. He then started spinning, using his momentum to lift the massive Guta. The thing started to lift off the ground after several seconds of dragging on the ground. It clawed the ground to stop itself from moving, to no avail. The Spartan-II pulled as hard as he could. The Guta flew off of its feet by about one or two feet, then it became three or four. Eventually, it became six feet. He then let go as it roared in dizziness and confused. He let go after his little 'merry-go-round' which lasted about two minutes. It flew by about fifty meters. Not that far, but still. Impressive. it grunted in pain as its own back had slammed against a tree, nearly breaking it.

Michael-002 grinned. The fight was far from over he knew. But, it was worth getting the point across... if it was smart enough to even comprehend his point. He looked over to see the kids. There were four of them. A brief mental scan revealed that not a hair on any of White team's heads had been scarred by the Guta, barring the nasty-looking welts from rubber rounds used by the instructors. They looked at him like he was a mixture of insanity and a god. He was more akin to that of the mythical Hercules, he felt.

"Is everyone alright?" He asked. He heard the monster try to get up and grunt in pain. There was silence at first.

Then, Sarai-009, whom had crawled away from the destruction and now standing up, looked at him in awe.

"Y-Yes, sir." She said, nodding.

"How'd you do that?" Jason-149 asked. Michael laughed at the awe that he was getting. Someday, they would do things just like this.

"Didn't anyone tell you to eat your veggies?" he asked, smiling under his polarized visor.

Tyler-091's eye twitched at this. Michael's eyes widened as he inspected them with another scan of his eyes. Their bodies were really thin right now. Looked like they hadn't eaten in a few days. He wanted to sigh.

 _'He who does not work, shall not eat'_ if the quote by Captain John Smith of the English colony of Jamestown, Virginia back on Earth was right. But when it applied to children?

"Permission to speak, sir?" Sarai-009 asked.

"Granted," Michael said, nodding.

"We haven't eaten anything in three days. We've been dead-last for that long." The team leader said. As if on cue, four stomachs growled. Michael spoke to himself so low only he could hear his own words.

"Brutal, but necessary." Child soldiers had been used for many, many centuries. For starters, the original Spartans had trained their children at age six or even six months earlier than that. Training was brutal, obviously, as they were trained for war. Trainees then, as now, were beaten.

Mikaela-131 simply looked at him in awe. He was taller than all of them by about a foot or so. He smiled, feeling like an older brother around them. He never had brothers or sisters before. And right now: he was getting his chance.

Michael then noticed Sarai's knife.

"Sarai, mind if I see your knife?" He asked, extending his hand. She blinked, unsure how he knew her name and then thought that he was an instructor. She complied with the order.

"Yes, sir." She said, walking up to him and giving the object to him. He inspected it. It must've been stolen from an instructor. The knife was of a very good quality, if the company was anything to go by. He had learned knife-fighting from both the 'Net and his father and grandfather. Of course, Mom had been a bit hesitant about it.

He noted the dirt on it as well as the scratches and dents on the blade. That and it was dull.

"Knife needs to be cleaned and polished. It's got dirt and it's starting to get rusty, see?" He said, pointing to the rust and dirt. Sarai looked closely. Behind him, he sensed the anger of the Guta. He turned his head to see it rising. It looked at him and was about to charge again when he raised two fingers in the air. Lightning crackled overhead. Then, he swung those fingers down right as it was about to charge. A bolt from the sky came down in a flash and the Guta fell, a blood-curdling scream was sounded as it writhed in pain from the thousands of volts that had run through its body. He turned his head.

"I'll deal with that one in a minute," he nonchalantly announced as he turned to the stunned looks of White team.

"If an instructor catches you with it, he's going to beat you a lot worse for thievery," Michael lectured to Sarai as he raised the knife.

"And stealing UNSC property is a federal offense, punishable by a jail sentence and a hefty fine. Think you can pay about a few hundred dollars' worth of fines, trainee?" He lectured to Sarai.

"No, sir." Sarai answered.

"Also: see if you can find a whetstone as soon as we set out for the exfil point." He told her.

"Yes, sir." She said, nodding. She had questions in her eyes. He would answer them.. or not. Time would tell. Just then, the Guta got back up and began charging back. Seemed like not even a lightning strike would put it down. It charged at him again in anger. He spun and tossed the knife, already aiming for what he wanted to pierce. The knife flew from his hand and a second later, the Guta staggered back as the knife had pierced its left eye. It screamed in pain right as Michael charged it, punching it in the face. Another pop was heard. The thing tried to swipe him, only for him to jump high into the sky, the weight of his armor having no bearing on how high he could jump. He landed on the thing's back, making it scream in pain again as its back broke. It couldn't move its legs, it found out.

He reached forward as it whined in pain and shushed it, touching its head almost-lovingly. It was in pain as it looked around. It tried to move forward with its claws, only to realize that it couldn't.

"There, there. I'll make it all better." He told it softly. It was just an animal. It must've been starving to travel for hundreds of miles away from the usual hunting grounds where it lived. The floods down south must've driven it from home or something like it. He felt its hunger and its pain and... He frowned as he sensed that it was also feeling grief... like it lost something. A family perhaps? A mate and offspring? It looked too old to be a young one. If anything, it must've lost its family back in the floods. He sighed.

"Shouldn't have come after human young, my friend." Michael told it before he grabbed its head and then twisted it. The sound was very disconcerting snap as its neck bones broke. He patted the head as a reassurance to the dead creature that its suffering was now over.

The Spartan-II took out the knife from its eye, cleaning it on some nearby tree leaves. He then had an idea. He did a count of the number of team leaders in his head and decided to give each of them something. He took out the teeth of the Guta with his bare hands, each one as big as his middle finger and thick as his thumb. He made sure to get as much blood off of them as possible.

He walked over to the group of trainees. They looked at him in shock.

"Y-You killed a Guta with your bare hands!" Mikaela-131 said, pointing at the now-dead animal. He showed them its teeth. They looked at them in awe.

"Sarai-009," Michael said. Sarai made an attention-stance, as did the others. Even when tired, they were perfect soldiers at attention.

"Your orders are to give each of these teeth to your fellow team-leaders in your class. Each of them will have these teeth as a gift from me, personally." He instructed as he held the teeth out.

"I will keep one for myself so you will all recognize me when the time comes. Is that understood?" Michael instructed.

"Please take them," He insisted. They blinked and then they took them all. They hid the teeth in their pockets. He kept the last one, a large fang, for himself.

"Make sure Mendez or the others don't catch you with these, understand?" He asked.

"Yes, sir." They all said.

"Good, now then: fall out and let's move." He ordered. He then gave Sarai back her knife. She took it back. He held the handle firmly as she grabbed it. She looked at his polarized faceplate.

"Notice how it's clean?" He asked. She looked at it.

"Yes, sir." She said, nodding.

"Keep it that way, understand?" His head tilted as he spoke. The team-leader for White nodded as she said 'Yes, sir.' He released his grip and she sheathed it.

"Good," He said, nodding and satisfied that she understood. He looked around at the others.

"Now, all of you grab a few rocks just in case a wolfpack's out. I'll escort you to Dead-Last Lane and then I'm off." He told them. He went over and grabbed his MA-5B. It had a dent from him throwing it. Good thing he put the safety on before he tossed it. He smiled. Sometimes, it felt good to use your fists every once in a while.

"Alright: Diamond Formation, people. And stay within three meters of me." He instructed.

"Yes, sir." They all said, now armed with rocks. They then began their walk to Dead-Last Lane.

At first, the walk was silent.

"John's not going to believe this if you tell him," Tyler-091 said to Sarai-009 in a hushed whisper. It almost made it sound like Tyler was accusing Sarai of having a crush on John. He scoffed to himself. Not the least likely: John was focused on winning, not romance. He was lucky, for sure. Then again, the concept of luck was a bit superstitious. Then again: who knows what lay out in the darkest reaches of the universe?

"Did you see how he went toe-to-toe with that thing?" Mikaela-131 said to Jason-149.

"He punched it in the face... a lot!" Jason-149 said.

"And I broke its back and then its neck," Michael-002 said aloud.

"Bear in mind: Killing an animal is one thing: killing a man is another." He warned, looking at them.

"How old are you all now?" He asked.

"Seven, sir." Tyler-091 responded. Jason-149 was seven as well. But, Mikaela and Sarai were both eight.

The sky above them was now dark with storm clouds rolling over them. Lightning crackled over their heads.

"Don't worry, we'll be fine." He reassured them. If anything, his mind was keeping the storm at bay.

"Permission to speak freely, sir." Jason-149 requested.

"Granted, 149."

"When you pointed your fingers at that Guta... and that lightning struck it... did you..." Jason paused.

"Did I use magic?" Michael asked, amused.

"Uh-" Jason started to say.

"Eh," Michael shrugged. He decided to deflect the question with a joke. Truth be told, he wasn't sure himself. If anything, it felt like he was using his own life-force or something... maybe even calling upon something else.

"Who knows? Maybe I'm the UNSC version of Gandalf." He said, with a grin under his faceplate.

"Who's Gandalf?" Mikaela-131 asked. He wanted to stop the party right then and there and lay it into her about how a kid like her didn't know whom Gandalf the frigging Grey was! He might've said 'Dumbledore' and she still wouldn't- He sighed and facepalmed.

He realized that none of them probably ever saw the Ralph Bakshi movies as kids...or saw the early 21st century renditions of the great Classic, much less read _Harry Potter_. Of course, now that he thought about it: he kind of felt like Gandalf... with four hobbits. He laughed. The kids being hobbits was funny to him. Of course, there never were female hobbits that got that much of an appearance in the books.

It hadn't always been about war or strategy, or history. He had read some classic works as well, mostly fantasy stuff with magic. Of course, he was much more of a 'Tolkien' kind of guy. He took a deep breath. Of course, while humanity drew breath, there was only war in its future. There never really had been a golden age of peace to anyone's knowledge. He wasn't blind or stupid to ignore the fact of how the Insurrection came about. even before then, there were those that opposed the UEG's rule, viewing it as oppressive, corrupt, and other such terms.

It wasn't perfect, but it was the government. All the nations of the world came together to solve the Neo-Fascist and Neo-Communist problem... along with overpopulation. There had been a bit of a decline around the 2050s, but it picked up again afterwards.

While space had its dangers, there would always be protectors for humanity. He looked at the children and sighed. The question was: how ready would they be when the time came?

After a long walk, they arrived at the exfil point: a long road leading back home.

"This is where we part ways, trainees." Michael announced.

"Sarai," He stated. Sarai looked up.

"Remember what I told you about keeping your knife clean and polished." He told her. She nodded.

"And give the Guta teeth to the other team leaders. We'll recognize each other somewhere down the road someday." He said, looking out down the literal road that led back to CASTLE base.

"But, when will that be, sir?" Jason-149 asked, looking up at him. He laughed as he put a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"When all of you are ready," He told them. The four gave him confused looks.

"By then, you'll all be able to take me on in hand-to-hand!" He said, happily. Tyler gulped as did Mikaela. Jason whispered to Sarai 'No way in heck am I taking him on'. He was going to have to learn that there were times to fight much stronger opponents someday.

He looked at all of them and smiled. It wasn't a bad first impression. He met four of his future comrades. And so far, things had turned out... possibly alright. The future was always in motion. He would've loved to have met John-117 or Frederic-104. Then again, it wasn't always going to be his call.

" _Adios_ , trainees." he said. He stood at attention and saluted them. They saluted back. After that, he fell out and walked away.

Behind him, the trainees fell out and then started walking.

As soon as he got out of sight, he radioed CASTLE base for an evac.

"Alpha-Bravo: copy? Over. " He asked.

 _"Solid Copy, Spartan-002. Over."_ Mendez's voice said on the COM Channel.

 _"But your status is going to be bad when you get back,"_ The old man warned, before adding 'over'. Michael smiled.

"Worth it, sir. Over." Michael said. He waited for the pick-up.

XXX

As usual, White team didn't get dinner for being last.. but they did do their mission. Unlike the others that had hot showers and got ice cream and turkey, and other great delicacies for children: they had nothing. Not even a shower. So, yet again, they didn't eat.

Sarai bit her lip as she walked up to Blue team. They had stopped eating and looked up at her. Kelly and Sam wrinkled their noses in disgust.

"When's the last time you took a shower?!" Kelly barked, covering her nose. She glared at her.

"Excuse me: I haven't eaten in about three days, now four!" She snapped, raising three and then four fingers.

"What do you want?" Sam asked, leaning forward, angrily.

"Come here to whine?" Kelly asked.

"No," She said, producing the Guta fang that the strange instructor had given to her. John looked down at the fang that she held. She sat down next to the team and showed it to them, but made sure the instructors didn't see.

"Is that an animal fang?" Kelly asked.

"Guta," Sarai explained. Sam scoffed.

"'Guta'? Where'd you get that?" Sam asked, looking at it as he leaned over the table.

"It's a bit of a story, but I was told to give this to John." She said, looking at John. The Spartan-II blinked.

"Me?" He asked, unsure. Sarai shrugged.

"Well, all of the team leaders." She explained. "We took one for ourselves, but the rest are for every team leader... including the guy that-" She sighed.

"You're not going to believe this: but we were nearly killed by a pack of wolves, then by a Guta, and a trainer came out and killed the Guta... with his _bare hands_." She said. John blinked as she handed him the guta fang. She then told her story. The others were telling theirs, but Tyler and Jason were more enthusiastic in their telling on how the mysterious instructor or in Tyler's case ' How The Baddest Man on Reach had killed the 'Big, Hulking Guta With His Wizard Powers'. Jorge wasn't buying it as was clear from an exclamation in some Eastern-European language she never heard before.

"So, this guy just appears out of the blue and kills a guta? And he does it right after explaining how to clean that knife you stole from an instructor?" John asked for clarification.

"And he uses two fingers to call down a lightning bolt which strikes said guta?" Kelly asked as well.

"Then proceeds to use the knife and then breaks its back and snaps its neck?" Sam asked in addition. She nodded.

"Well," Kelly said.

"If all four of you are saying the same thing," John said, thinking and then looked at the fang.

"And you have proof of it," he added. He nodded.

"I believe you... did he say who he was?"

"No, he said that we would meet him when we were 'ready'." She said. The four were silent.

"You don't think it's... Michael, right? Michael-002? The only one of us whom graduated that we never met before except for earlier?" Sam asked, looking around.

"I only thought there were seventy-five... looks like there were more." Kelly said.

"Wonder what happened to the others?" John wondered.

"Hey, think he's got some stories to tell?" Sam asked, looking around.

"That and he was a bit far-off. I couldn't see his face, but he had the uniform of an officer." Kelly said.

"Well, if he passed his training regimen and became an officer... then I'd like to see what he's capable of in real missions. I can't wait when I start sparring with him!" Sam said, grinning.

"If we survive," John whispered under his breath.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," John said, shaking his head.

XXX

The first thing that happened when Michael-002 was brought back from the mission area and into a conference room with Mendez and Sheng in it... was for him to take his helmet right off and then Chief Sheng punched him in the face right after he said he was reporting in.

 _"Lying little shit!"_ He roared in Michael's face after Michael had staggered. He hadn't blocked it as he felt that it was necessary to suffer punishment in light of disobeying orders. After all, he would do anything for his future comrades and subordinates. And what better way as an example than for him to suffer punishment?

"You lied to me, Halsey and Chief Mendez about your visions, didn't you?!" Sheng bellowed.

"Yes, sir!" Michael said, standing straight at attention. His nose was now broken.

"Why, son? Why'd you lie?" Mendez asked.

"Sir, it was so that I could meet my comrades, sir! It was to save lives, sir!" Michael said, honestly.

"And you do realize that you may or may not have sealed your fate with your actions today, Trainee?" Mendez said, walking up to him.

"Yes, sir!" Michael said, staring straight ahead, like the soldier that he was.

"Son... what happened in that area?" Mendez asked, crossing his arms.

"We found a dead guta with his neck and back broken and it appeared it was also struck by lightning. That, and we found the team that got slaughtered." Mendez stated as a fact.

"Which team was it, kid?" sheng asked.

"White team, sir!" Michael-002 answered. Mendez frowned and looked at Sheng.

Michael explained his vision to Mendez and why he did what he did.

"So, you orchestrated all this for a two-fold mission: to meet the other Spartan-IIs and to save White team?" Mendez asked, rubbing his chin. He thought for several moments.

"Sheng: get him back to ASGARD... but under lock and key. I'll let Halsey know what happened over here." he told his fellow spacer.

"Sure," Sheng said, nodding.

"But, first: get him out of that armor and put him back in his proper uniform. He's going home in it and not back in that rank he doesn't deserve." Mendez said, glaring at Michael.

"Dismissed," He added.

"Aye, sir." Michael said, falling out. He couldn't help but grin as Mendez grabbed his neck and hauled him out of the room.

"C'mere, you." Sheng growled as he hauled the super-soldier out.

XXX

Halsey grunted angrily and broke a pen in two as she saw what happened in the conference room via a secret camera. Mendez and Sheng had told her what happened. _That manipulative, scheming brat!_ He had manipulated her into sending him over to meet the others! He was a lot smarter and more cunning than she thought. That wouldn't happen again, she was sure.

She felt upset as she had learned that this superhuman, this _thing..._ had used her own emotions.. had used his newfound abilities as some kind of orator on the level of Cicero and Gaius Julius Caesar of ancient Rome or other figures in human history to control her reaction and send him away so that he could do his little 'mission'. _The conniving bastard!_

But, still. She couldn't help but feel that he had done the right thing but had a bad means to do so. He had saved White team, yes... but was it necessary? The program would have 'drop-outs'... and White team, if she was hearing things right was supposed to have dropped out: animal attack or other-wise.. but it looked like Michael was changing things... perhaps in ways that not even _she_ could foresee.

She sighed and rubbed her head. The soft glow of her terminal in her dark bedroom was a bit of light though the feeling was otherwise.

"Deja: have Doctor Stone and Watson's team prepare for surgery: we're cutting Michael open. I'll highlight the organs they need to biopsy." She said as Deja appeared beside her hand.

"Punishment, ma'am?" Deja' asked, not smiling.

"Punishment and research," Halsey clarified. The subject had to learn that there were limits to what he could do.


	12. Chapter 12: The Moment Arrives!

Chapter 12

 _(A/N: The moment has finally arrived! The Emperor's Fragment meets Doctor Halsey! Sorry for making it short but I want to see your reactions. What should the Emperor do with Halsey? How should the Emperor incorporate Michael and the Spartan-IIs into the Astartes legions, if possible. And, should the Emperor give the UNSC Power Armor like that of the Astartes? Someone suggested that the implants for Michael should be given to the other Spartan-Iis and that is something worth considering. And I hope you have all had a fantastic year so far! I've been working my keister off for two food service jobs!)_

 ** _2518_**

 ** _Reach_**

 ** _Epsilon Eridanus_**

 ** _Outer Colonies_**

 ** _Human Space_**

" _That's_ what she wants us to take out?" Doctor Henry Watson asked aloud as he looked at the image before him. The two organs looked almost exactly alike. One was in subject-002's neck, the other in his chest.

Those two organs that are pretty much the same thing?" He asked, his mouth being covered by his bluish-green surgical mask. The entire team was in scrubs for this one. The subject was in the operating room, under an insane amount of anesthesia, with very few restraints. He had come quietly into this, without a fight. It seemed as if he was at peace with what was about to happen.

The team was already prepared for it. The incisions would be done by a medical AI and then they would come in afterwards. Subject-002's skin was quite endurable, almost impenetrable! It took a great deal of energy from a laser scalpel to cut his epidermis.

Watson sighed. He had been dealing with some ethical dillemas. The subject was seven years old, close to eight now. At first, when he saw him, he viewed him as a tragedy, brought into a super-soldier program. That was, until, he saw the potential for what he could be, what his organs could do to improve the other subjects. The cost would be one of the greatest genetically engineered human beings on a level never before seen. Oh well. Perhaps, those implanted would be part of a new generation?

The team gathered right outside the doors. It opened, revealing the operating table. The subject lay under a massive amount of anesthesia, his eyes closed and his breathing was stable. The light reflected off of its reddish-skin. His hair was cropped short close to his skull. His height had grown over the past eleven months... if the projections were right, at the rate he was going: he'd be about four times the size of a man. A true giant amongst man, perhaps either considered a sort of God or a Titan.

Of course, in this day and age, it was difficult to believe in Gods, though believers had remained.

His EKG monitor had been modified to show both hearts beating at a united pace. A giant with two hearts, three lungs, and so much more compared to regular humans... such a man would benefit the scientific advancements of humankind as a sacrifice. He and his team walked over to the subject.

He looked down. The last time they cut him open, he hadn't so much as flinched. The scars on his chest were there as faint white lines. Not signs of a battle, but still his recovery was quite impressive as was his metabolism. They had taken blood samples and discovered that his blood was immune to every known disease in human medicine. Even cancer couldn't injure him!

It was a shame that such a young man was to have his organs cut out for the greater price of advancing the rest of his class. Of course, he would live, but he would not doubt not feel whole. That, and Halsey had called them and told them that this also served as punishment for disobeying orders. What orders they were, they could only guess at. The last guy that disobeyed her orders, a young surgeon from old John Hopkins... wound up disappearing one day and when asked what happened, she responded with 'who?' It was a scary thought on what happened to him. The best guess was that the red-haired bright young man got transferred to someplace else... the other shouldn't even have been conceived.

The air was somewhat cool as they entered. The team stood around him just as the robotic arm holding the laser scalpel descended upon the subject laying down. His breathing was calm so far. There were no operating galleries to view it all. Ordinarily, such an operation wouldn't be recorded, much less viewed unless someone wanted to get sued or fired for a HIPAA violation. This wasn't such a case as the subject was quite frankly not normal. Hell, no one knew what genes this kid had. All DNA traces came back negative. This was impossible: no one(save God or Gods if one was religious) could create something out of nothing. Someone made him from somewhere. Where was this person?

"Is the camera on?" He asked aloud.

"Camera is on and recording, Doctor Watson." The medical AI, Hippocrates, announced.

"This is the surgical team for ONI installation codenamed ASGARD," He announced with his mask on. His voice sounded muffled as he looked down at the subject. He then said the names of the other doctors.

"We are about to commence a surgical operation of Spartan candidate-002 also known as Michael-002. The purpose of the operation is to extract two organs that are roughly the same in appearance and possible function in the subject's neck and chest." He continued.

"Hippocrates, if you will?" Watson said, referring to Hippocrates. The scalpel aimed at the subject's neck and the whirring of power was heard. Right as the beam from the scalpel was about to exit the barrel of the laser, the air suddenly felt hot. A blinding flash and a wave of air was felt as the entire room became filled with a very unnatural light.

He shielded his eyes as the flash came. The light was so bright that even when his eyes were closed, he could still see it. When he opened them again, he found someone standing at the opposite end of the room.

The figure was about six feet in height. He had broad shoulders and a tanned complexion of someone of possible Turkish descent. He had neck-length black hair and wrinkles around his eyes. His dark eyes looked around with a stony expression as his brown overcoat and black-and-white suit and tie made him look like a businessman or something.

He crossed his arms.

"Why," The man said in a sort of English accent that would remind someone of a very long-dead actor. "Is that man on an operating table?" His tone sounded slightly angry.

"Uh," Watson said and blinked, trying to see if this was an illusion. The man was still there. The other surgical staff looked around, unsure.

"Where did he come from?" Someone whispered.

"I would suggest you cancel this operation," The intruder said more as an order than a suggestion.. " _Right now."_ He said, his eyes now glowing a bright gold and his body began to exude a radiance like a sun. Part of Dr. Watson wanted to tremble before this god-like being, but his more atheist outlook made him a bit skeptical. However, this man looked like he was bit pissed so, he decided to follow through. His more rational side would berate him for his stupidity and cowardice, of course.

XXX

The man known as Aslan Shah fumed as the apparent surgeons scurried like rats out of the room. He had destroyed the camera upon arrival from orbit.

He then had a soft look as he saw what or rather whom was on the table. He breathed a sigh of awe and wonder as he gazed upon his creation, like seeing his firstborn son for the first time (Sadly that memory was lost to him. Along with so many others). He walked around the operating table to see the person that he had created. He looked at the man's face. Well, he looked more like he was about eleven or twelve now. Odd how the aging process worked. By the time half or more of his sons were teenagers, they had conquered their homeworlds. Michael was seven or eight now and he was still in 'training'. He sighed and looked down at his son. His soft look became one of anger as he saw an image of X-ray scans with highlighted organs. _Why those sons of motherless whores! They planned on stealing and replicating his work for their own!_

He grunted in anger and then paused, realizing that his son, _his long-lost son_ , still slept. He rubbed his face and shook his head. He didn't want to wake him unintentionally. He wasn't ready, not now. Not if what he was hearing was true.

He walked right out of the surgical room just as a squad of Marine MPs bursted through the doors of the preparation room. He sighed as they aimed their MA5B assault rifles.

"Freeze! Hands up!" They shouted. He blinked and their weapons crumpled into balls. They all looked at their now destroyed weapons in shock and horror. A chorus of curses erupted as they now brought out their weapons only for him to crush those as well. The situation was hilarious, but right now, he was a little pissed.

 _"Holy shit!"_

 _"Fuck!"_

"Mother of-" One of them started to say.

"Ahem," He said, clearing his throat. All were silent.

"I request to speak to any and all administrative and/or military officials... right now." He stated. They looked at him in shock.

"Either you get whoever's in charge, or I start beating you all like rented mules." He threatened as his eyes glowed. They all looked at him in a mixture of shock and horror.

"Are you Jesus?" One of them asked, a buck Private asked. Aslan Shah shook his head and rubbed his face as he sighed.

"Just get someone in charge," He said, dismissively waving a hand.

XXX

Dr. Catherine Halsey had expected the results within a few hours to about half a day. Instead, Deja had told her that the operation was canceled by someone that just randomly appeared in the operating room, threatened the surgeons, destroyed a camera, then destroyed a squad's worth of weapons: both primary firearms and their side-arms. All they had left were their knives.

She had seen the images from the security cameras: a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and a Turkish complexion. The way he appeared and looked at Michael made her wonder... with not a small tinge of fear, that the day of judgement had arrived: his maker had come... or perhaps, it was someone else. Hopefully: the last rather than the former. Being raised by atheists, her parents had instilled in her that religion was man-made... but the fact that he destroyed things with his mind and randomly appeared... it made her actually pray... _not out loud_ , but silently in her mind that this being wouldn't kill her.

An entire platoon of Marine MPs, dressed in full combat armor with their assault rifles loaded and the safeties off, stood outside the doors to the preparation room. A full platoon:twenty-seven to thirty-five men and women... including two machine gun teams. It was oddly comical to see them all stacked up against the walls. She was escorted by Sheng to the doors.

"He's only demanded to see you," He told her.

"Did you speak with him?" She asked.

"That's why I got you, ma'am." Sheng answered. The two people stood right outside and looked in. The man stood with his arms crossed.

"Deja, do we know anything about him?" She asked her ear-piece.

"Ma'am, his file was just downloaded to me from off-world. Apparently, there's a ship that just docked identified as the private vessel _Bucephalus_ owned by one Aslan Shah, the President of Shah Investigations that he had somehow came from." Deja said.

"According to what files I can access: Aslan Shah is a private investigator, with vague rumors that he may possibly be into other fields of work as well, namely private security, mainly in poverty-stricken neighborhoods of say Mars. However, ONI suspected him of being involved in the possible disappearances of several ONI agents where he was allegedly seen." Deja said. The twenty-odd doctor did her best not to freak out at this. This man had made people disappear... how did ONI not take him out?

"However, his DNA profile is unknown. He has no fingerprints and blood type that is recorded." Deja' added. Halsey's eye twitched. The doors flung open and the platoon of Marines all jumped back as a chorus of swears were heard. Then, as if pulled in, Halsey and Sheng found themselves standing right in front of the crossed individual.

His arms were crossed as he looked at both of them, studying them.

"Dr. Catherine Halsey," Aslan Shah stated. She looked at him.

"You're a graduate of K-B University, correct?" He asked. She nodded. He shook his head in disgust and scoffed.

"If only Jeromi could see you now," He spat.

"I'd bet he'd be disgusted with what you've done!" He said, glaring at her. She blinked and felt like she would cower.

"You knew Vice Admiral Ysionris Jeromi?" She asked, crossing her arms.

"Of course," He said, glaring at her still.

"Whom do you _think_ taught him medicine for this time period in human history?" Shah stated. She tilted her head as her eyes widened.

"He was a bit brash and looked at people more like textbooks to be studied, but with time, he improved." Shah said. She blinked.

"But, you'd have to be at the very least nearly a century old!" She stated.

"Actually, I've lived a very, very long time... far back to the near-dawn of human history... in another lifetime. Here? About five thousand years ago, Earth-Standard." Shah answered, nonchalantly.

"What did you just say?" Sheng asked in shock as he took a step back. Shah stepped forward.

"I'm old enough to be your ancestor, Sheng. So, I reccomend you show me some respect as I have been learning a great deal about what you stole from me." Shah said, angrily. She looked at him.

"And what did we st-" She started to say and her face paled as she realized whom she was staring at.

"You... you created _him_ , didn't you?" Halsey asked, referring to Michael. Shah nodded and dipped his head.

"And I have waited a very long time to meet him. And I just found out you were trying to vivesect him for his gene-seed." His hands curled into balls as she gulped.

"That's my work, Catherine. Not yours." He stepped forward, towering over her.

"You didn't plagiarize people's papers back in college, but you stole my work (Technically a bit worse than the first, but still!). At worst, I should disintegrate you out of this plane of existence with my mind for your insolence or _wipe_ said mind!" Shah said, his volume not elevated, but his tone was that of angry.

"Example: I teleported in here because that's one of my abilities as one of the oldest humans alive and one of the most powerful psykers (advanced form of psychic) in existence." Shah explained. She blinked as the explanation flew over her head. He sighed and rubbed his face.

"Why?" He asked.

"Why did you take Michael away from his family to Reach? And why in the galaxy is he on an operating table?" He asked, jerking his thumb back.

She paused, unsure of what to say. She had so many questions about both Michael and his creator's origins. Essentially it was almost like meeting God... though the definition of 'God' varied from religion to religion. For most it was a super-being. For one Christian sect, God was the act of existence itself. Strange how it worked, though.

She then felt the invasive probe of something trying to read her mind and she shuddered.

"Ah," Shah said, thinking as he nodded.

"I see you have questions. Very well, I shall enlighten you as much as you can take." Shah said, urging them to follow.

"I gave Michael the decency of being covered by a sheet," He said, giving Halsey a glare. She shrunk before him.

He opened the doors with just a flick of a finger. They walked in to see Michael on the table, the laser scalpel now busted beyond repair. On a wall were the x-ray images. The god-like Man pointed at the image.

"Those two organs highlighted? Those are called 'gene-seed'." he explained.

"They were designed to have the blueprints needed to make both more gene-seed and the other additional organs needed for what I was making when I created Michael and his brothers." The man explained.

"And just what was this project?" She asked. Shah grinned.

"Halsey... ever heard the term 'Primarch'?" He asked.


	13. Chapter 13: The Long Awaited Conference

Chapter 13

 _(A/N: Sorry for not responding. I'm alive! Here's the newest chapter with the long-awaited conference! Let me know how to improve it! Also, I've been very busy with two other fanfictions, in addition to real-life work. Have a good one! Ave Imperator!)_

 _2519_

 _Reach_

 _Epsilon Eridani_

 _Inner Colonies_

 _UEG Space_

MCPO Franklin Mendez had to be called over to hear what Michael's apparent 'father' had to say. Needless to say, Mendez was quite surprised when he started to learn the truth, namely that Michalel-002's actual genetic father had appeared at ASGARD base. He had arrived behind Lieutenant Hayes, the ONI liaison for Halsey and her staff that Mendez suspected of actually spying on them all, but he couldn't be sure. He hadn't discovered any bugs so far (a plus or a minus). Doctors Wilson and Stone all tried not to look Aslan Shah in the eye, their heads bent down in shame with their wicked plans discovered. Halsey did her best not to appear ashamed. Sheng rubbed the back of his head. The ONI liaison, Lieutenant Hayes, walked in about the same time as Mendez.

"Halsey, just what in the hell is going on?" Hayes asked right as he saw Aslan Shah. Immediately, his frown turned to one of confusion.

"Who is this?" Hayes asked.

"Sit down, Lieutenant Hayes." Shah ordered with a firm tone.. Halsey spoke before Hayes could ask just who in the hell he was, ordering an ONI operative/liaision like himself around: a mere civilian.

"Lieutenant: unless you want to die: _sit down_." Halsey ordered. Mendez frowned as he looked between his comrade Sheng, Shah, Halsey and the shaken ONI spook.

"Have a seat, Master Chief." Shah respectfully said, gesturing with a hand. Shah spoke with a curiously British accent that reminded him strongly of Patrick Stewart. Mendez decided to sit down opposite of the spook

"Allow me to introduce myself to the newcomers: I am currently known as 'Aslan Shah', but I have been known by other names over the many years of my second life." He began. "Along with my first, though I must admit, I have had many more titles and abilities in the first rather than the second and current life that I lead."

"I have no idea what he's talking about," Lieutenant Hayes said, dismissively. "Can someone please-" Just then the Emperor's eyes glowed and instantaneously Hayes dissapeared in plain view, as if snatched from existence. He was sitting in a chair looking around one moment. The next, his chair was empty after a brief flash of light. Halsey blinked as Sheng and Mendez both rose from their chairs in shock. There was dead silence in the room for a full thirty seconds before someone spoke.

"D-" Halsey raised a finger. "Did you just teleport him out of the room?" Halsey asked out of shock and disbelief.

"It's an ability of mine that I can do. Others can too as well, but only by using a 'teleportarium' or are powerful psykers like or somewhat-like myself." Shah explained as he shrugged.

"Shah," Sheng started to say as he bit his lip as he struggled to find the courage to ask. "Can you bring him back here, please?" Mendez asked for his friend instead.

"He's our liasion with ONI and I'd hate to tell them how we lost him." Shah's eyes glowed again and the ONI liaision appeared just as suddenly as he had dissappeared. His face was pale and for some odd reason, the room now smelled of empty bowels and piss. The thirty-odd-year-old man shook with fear as his jaw moved, trying to make words.

"Ah, I see you met a servitor when I teleported you to my ship in the space elevator in orbit." Shah happily said with a smile. His smile then turned upside down. "Bear in mind that you'll be seeing it again along with its maker if you ever so much as disrespect me again." Shah warned. "Is that understood, Mr. Hayes?" Shah asked with a raised eyebrow.

Hayes nodded.

 _'What the hell is this man? He teleported an ONI liaision, with enough experience to break most men to and from someplace else while frightening him like a child. What are we dealing with here?'_ Halsey thought. Perhaps, it should've been wise not to have taken Michael in the first place, she thought. Then again, things happened. At least she was still alive and sane... for the most part.

"Excellent, now go and change yourself. I'd hate to have everyone smell of your bowels for the duration. I'll be sure to give you a recapitulation." Shah said, gesturing out the door. The man simply nodded and stood up. Something brown came down onto the floor and he walked away, leaving the stain of urine and feces in the room. Halsey covered her nose at this, as did the two Chiefs.

"Jesus, that's rank!" Sheng said in disbelief as soon as Hayes went outside of the room. Drs. Watson and Stone both looked at Shah in fear. Shah looked back at them and his head dipped with a glare. The two men blinked in response and Shah's head rose slightly. It was almost as if he was speaking with telepathy.

+++As a matter of fact, I can+++ Shah's calm and matter-of-fact voice entered her head. She blinked and tried her best not to freak out.

Shah smiled as he telepathically spoke.

+++Some who have a fragment of advanced psychic abilities are capable of doing what I'm doing now: telepathy. Of course, that was in my first life+++

"I can hear his voice in my head," Sheng announced with a weirded out expression.

"I think we all can," Halsey announced.

"What the hell?" Hayes asked.

Shah smiled at this. +++Most, if not all, that have a small portion of what you now call 'psionics' have this gift of telepathy. Of course, this power, in my reality would not have it for at the very least another twenty-thousand years or so. I sadly cannot remember for now.+++ He frowned at the last bit.

Halsey blinked.

"'Twenty-thousand years?'" She asked for clarification.

"You heard correctly, as did you all." Shah said, nodding.

Hayes snorted. "That's a crock of bullshit,"

"Maybe for your _26th century_ mind, Lieutenant. But, in my time, I was from the _31st millenium_. More accurately: nearly the fourth or fifth century of the 31st millenium or M31, to be exact as we called it in my time, or rather 'reality', you could say." Shah explained, nodding. Halsey pursed her lips at this.

"Michael's organs were incredibly and delicately engineered... I'm guessing in _utero?"_ Halsey asked.

"Actually in specially designed pods underneath the surface of Luna, or Earth's moon, in my time." Shah said, nodding.

"I found it fascinating how many organs they were and how they-" Halsey started to say.

 _"-vastly improved the physical condition of a human person."_ They both said simultaneously.

"If you wish, I can show you. Bear in mind, I will tutor you under certain conditions." Shah said. "Of course, that's for after this meeting is over."

"So, you say you're from the future and the freak over at ASGARD is yours." Hayes said in an arrogant and impudent manner. He stood up with his hands on the table. "And you're from the future by ten million years. Explain. Now." He arrogantly demanded. Apparently, some lessons weren't well-learned.

Shah sighed and rolled his eyes. "Very well. As you wish. Though, you may want to steel your sanity for this." He said, his eyes glowing.

"What are you-?" Halsey started to ask.

 _A white light blinded her. Immediately, it was replaced by something... strange. She saw a very different humanity: spanning the entire galaxy in an advanced civilization, making peace with aliens after untold centuries of war, using machines that could make anything one wanted with but a single spoken request. She saw the births of psionics, then their immediate downfall as a massive psychic scream tore through the minds of every psyker of every race on every inhabited world. A large part of the galaxy turned into a nightmarish void of nightmares made real, and almost an entire race was consumed for a thirsting and laughing monstrosity that called itself a god, taking its place in a dark and depraved pantheon._

 _An impossible storm occurred in the void of space, covering the entire galaxy in a rampage of madness and chaos. On millions of worlds, civilizations fell and entire populations were wiped out. Aliens that once befriended humankind turned on them like hungry wolves either enslaving or exterminating their former friends and allies. A few actually interbred with the humans._

 _Mars's terraforming efforts completely collapsed with the survivors forced to live in bunkered cities for a time until a machine cult somehow spread amongst them. From the ruins of the Mars colony was formed the Martian Mechanicum after a period of wars against unbelievers. When the galaxy-spanning storm subsided, the Mechanicum spread its mechanical grip across the stars, making entire worlds for the purpose of forging weapons and consumer products. Of course, it was also mainly about weapons and ships to colonize even more worlds. Of course, Earth became nothing more than a hellhole of wars between various warlords. Until a new warlord came about._

 _She couldn't believe this at all. She saw Aslan Shah on the possible future surface of Earth leading an army of men that were nine-feet tall in strange-looking plated armor to battle and glory. His long black hair flowing in the wind as he fought against his enemies and crushed them while also making alliances and backroom deals. At his side was a hooded figure whose face was shadowed. Strangely, he was nearly the same height as his liege._

 _+++Back then, I was, and always will be known, as the Emperor. By then, I had used so many names, as now, that I decided that something simple would do. Privately, Malcador would refer to me when we spoke. He's the hooded one, a 'Sigilite' in those days. Of course, he was the last of his order. They kept the secrets to Earth's past as well as various artifacts of history and what have you. He was also my kinsman through blood. My descendant or many-times nephew, I can not remember, sadly+++ Shah said in her mind. +++Those men that I led weren't normal as you saw. In fact, those were the prototypes for the Legionnes Astartes, or the Space Marine Legions as I would call them later. Of course, these prototypes were known as the 'Thunder Warriors'. I later had to disband them for the much newer and better Astartes legions. Of course, the prototypes worked almost as well, but some things were rather lacking, sadly.+++ The man explained._

 _She saw the 'Thunder Warriors' lay waste to entire cities while suffering injuries that would leave most men either dead or crippled for life. She saw the battles that laid waste to entire nations' worth of cities, entire populations wiped out in the blink of an eye, begging warlords that were executed without so much as a flinch, and more horrors. If there was one thing that hadn't changed: it was mankind's capacity for cruelty as well as violence. Truly, in the darkness of mankind's future: there was only war._

 _She saw the Emperor unite Terra under one banner, make a pact with the Martian Mechanicum, saw human beings, criminals really, get lobotomized and turned into cybernetic slaves with their organs and limbs replaced, becoming nothing more than cannon fodder in war or as servants in various menial functions or otherwise._

 _Then, the scientist saw Shah/the Emperor work on one of his greatest projects, in essence: Michael's origins. She saw him craft twenty beings in twenty pods using technology she could only dream of, even using powers that she couldn't even conceive of to do so. Each pod was marked in a Roman numeral, their birthplace locked deep beneath the lunar surface._

 _+++Those twenty individuals that I made are called 'Primarchs'. They were crafted from my own genetics. Each of them was to lead his own legion across the stars. They were to be both generals and statesmen, warriors and heroes to mankind. Both brutal and cunning. A combination of Greek wording at the time, I guess. As for 'Astartes', well. I must admit, I can't remember where I got that name. However, no matter its origins, the Astartes were the most deadliest warriors in human history so far, in my time. The Primarchs are far deadlier, faster and stronger than their own men. They were also the most gifted of strategists, I made sure of that.+++ The Emperor said at this._

 _Then, some kind of incident happened. Halsey wasn't sure what it was. She only saw scattered bits and pieces here and there. What she did know was that somehow all twenty of those pods went missing from his lab. She saw the Emperor's reactions to it all. After this, he conquered the rest of the solar system and began a galaxy-wide campaign of conquest and reunification. The so-called 'Great Crusade'. Halsey saw massive, shining fleets and armies deal death and destruction to their enemies: both human and alien. She saw the twenty Legions of the Space Marines, saw their armor and their... improvements from their predecessors. She saw them without their legion's true masters, the ones that they themselves were crafted from, though born from different mothers. Vast numbers of Space Marines in different colored armors with guns that fired self-propelled bullets that were the size of a man's head._

 _+++In truth, I searched for my lost creations in addition to reunifying lost colonies. I later did find most of them save the Second and Eleventh. We already know what happened to the Second. As for the Eleventh, I know nothing, sadly.+++_

 _The Spartan-program director saw the reunion of the 'Emperor' and his Primarchs. She saw them all as they either reluctantly or whole-heartedly welcomed their father. She saw different personalities with different strategies... all of them towering over men as if they were toddlers. She saw perfection and zeal, reservation and arrogance, kindness and hatred, darkness and light, order and secrecy, all of their exemplars in the Primarchs. All of them leading their own legions. This was what Michael was supposed to have been a part of. She looked upon it all and wept internally. Someone had perfected it all long after her bones had been dust. Humanity, after a dark age of ignorance and superstition, would rise again._

The vision ended abruptly.

"That is all I can show you for now. I will explain some more details later... in private company, of course." Shah explained. Everyone in the room looked at the man in awe, this powerful God-like being that was a future master of mankind.

"Holy shit," Hayes breathed, realizing the potential for what could be done.

"Mother of God... the kid's supposed to be one of... those?" Sheng asked, concerned. Mendez looked at the 'Emperor'. His eyes squinted. Shah tilted his head almost as if speaking. Mendez simply nodded.

"Least we know why he's so advanced," Mendez commented.

"No wonder he was so...-"

"Intelligent? Clever? Strong?" Shah finished for her as he smiled. "I made them to be the greatest generals in human history, bar none."

"Halsey... I think you should give him back his kid." Sheng said, a bit weirded out.

"On the contrary, I believe that he's to be needed as part of the Spartan-II program... for now." Shah said, looking at Halsey.

"I've heard about what you have done, Halsey. While your methods are..." The man paused. "Questionable, I still believe your heart may in fact be trying to go in the right direction. However, bear in mind: I can not do _everything_ for you all."

"You're suggesting a partnership?" She asked. "More like a blend of apprenticeship/partnership." The Emperor said, smiling. "Under mutually agreed terms," He added.

"So, the kid's staying with us?" Mendez asked, for clarification.

"As I said: 'for now'. But, I will have need of him." The future Emperor clarified.

"So, there's more of _them_ out there?" Hayes asked. referring to the Primarchs. The Emperor laughed.

"Oh, goodness no. They're a long way away now."

"Of course, I do have some Space Marines that would like to meet him in the future. Sadly, I had to disband his Legion when I couldn't find him. I transferred most of them to his brother Roboute. He wound up having the largest Legion of my entire army." The Emperor said, apologetically.

"I'm sure he's not going to be happy about that," Mendez commented, crossing his arms.

Halsey still couldn't believe it. No wonder Michael's genes were so superior! He had been genetically engineered in the future! Her mind was just burning with questions.

+++And I will answer them all in time.+++

"Also, that brings me to this: why was my son being operated on? What were you hoping to take out?+++ Shah asked. At this, Watson and Stone stood up to request to go to the bathroom. They were denied and forced to tell the truth.

"Hmm, interesting. That sounds a bit like Vulcan, my son that led the Salamanders of Nocturne. He was renowned for his kindness and generosity. And you say that he can wield 'lightning'?" He asked for clarification.

"Yeah, he called up a storm that engulfed a quarter of the planet. It caused one hell of a ruckus among the civilians." Sheng said.

"Said storm only lasted about five-point-two-three seconds," _Deja'_ said, appearing from a holotank. The Emperor turned around, frowning and then back to Halsey.

"What you say is... greatly interesting." Shah said, thinking. "I will happily send over some associates of mine to work on certain technologies that will help in Michael's military development in addition to your own... far from Reach. I'd rather have it be on certain facilities, thank you very much. Far from sight and mind." The Emperor dictated.

"Are any of your... 'Astartes' here? In our time line?" Halsey asked.

"Ah, please: call them 'Space Marines'. They're essentially the much improved version of your own UNSC Marines... and Spartans, if I may add. Of course, if I knew about you before, I cannot remember. My memory is somewhat fragmented due to old age." The Emperor said, smiling.

Mendez frowned at this, while Halsey hid her expression.

+++As I said, I will explain later.+++ Shah's voice entered her mind.

"Now, then. Whom do I have to see for a treaty to be signed? Also, if you wish: I can send over some footage of some operations we have going on in the Outer Colonies and beyond." The mysterious future Emperor offered, smiling.

Mendez, Hayes, and Sheng leaned forward.

"What?" Hayes asked, dumbfounded.

"Oh, you didn't know? My people have been helping yours out for a bit." The Emperor said, smiling.

Hayes's jaw dropped while Halsey stared at the Emperor, her face paling.

"I'll send some over to your High Command as well as Doctor Halsey for further review," The Emperor said, clapping his hands. "Now that's partially settled: where is the nearest cafeteria? I'm somewhat starved and I'd rather like a taste of mess hall food. It's been centuries since I had such."


	14. 14: Assault on Freedom's Refuge I

Chapter 14

 _(A/N: Brothers! For too long have I been silent. My old cogitator has failed in its duty and I had to recycle it back to the Omnissiah._ _Edit: Thank you for the support, Battle-brothers! On the matter of this particular Space Wolf pack: yes, I took the names from the Norse pantheon. Some are recognizable. Others may or may not. Personally, I'm of the opinion that squads should be around eight or ten, possibly twelve people... in terms of Packs and fictional scifi military squads. After all: having five guys in a pack sounds like a bad idea personally. Still let me know how I can improve as I'm using Lexicanum and 40k wiki for aid. Sorry if I'm getting anything wrong, by the way._ _On the matter of Michael's Legion's tactics, I was thinking of having them being tactically flexible, depending on the situation. His abilities would be used, however. As to whether or not having ODSTs/UNSC Marines as a sort of Imperial Guard, I don't think so, personally, but I could possibly have that in there. Key word: 'possibly'. Still, I'm thinking about having a few ODSTs be recruited in Michael's legion from UNSC space. Spartan IIIs as Space Marines is an option. Another thing I'm considering is making another Lost Primarch story featuring the XI Primarch in another reality. One thing that always irked the heck out of me nowadays is how there was the Scotch-Irish-style Tanith-First-And-Only Imperial Guard regiment... but there are no Scotch-Irish Space Marines-to my knowledge. I might make the story about having the XI Primarch being a sort-of Scotch-Irish in another world. Then again, I'm interested in your thoughts. Enjoy the chapter, guys! In the Emperor's Name!_

 _Edit: Pasted all of my updated chapters concerning Freedom's Refuge into one overall chapter_

 _+++Thought for the Day: Always give more than expected, be it in generosity or in war+++_ _)_

September 2519

 _United Insurrectionist/Resistance Front Asteroid Redoubt: Freedom's Refuge_

 _Omega-Theta System_

 _Outer Colonies_

 _Borders of UEG Space/Uncharted Territory_

Freedom's Refuge had originally been nothing more than an asteroid mining colony back in the early 2400s or late 2300s. No one was sure on the dates, and no one really cared for it if one wasn't such a nerd about it. Back then, there had been a boom in early space exploration. However, in recent years, it had somewhat slowed down. Though, there were those that wanted to escape the bounds of familiar territory... if they could get past the Insurrectionist pirates first.

For you see, Freedom's Refuge, and its sister asteroid redoubts in the system were home to the United Insurrectionist/Resistance Front, one of many Insurrectionist groups (as there was no one united Insurrectionist movement that they were all behind due to various infighting and disputes over doctrine and tactics as well as relationships between leaders). Now, there were a few other places and cells outside of Omega-Theta, but the last time anybody had heard from them were rumors that they had been slaughtered like animals by something. Not ONI, some felt, but something else. Something _worse_.

"I keep telling you, it's got to be those damn Romanovs." Bill Jenkins said, slamming his bottle of Freedom's Refuge moonshine down onto the table. "We haven't heard hide or hair from Tom Rodriguez's group in over five years, Sally Andrews's place in over three months, and last month: Ted Howards's supply ship missed its goddamn deadline!" The former miner-turned-rebel said, counting with his fingers. His graying beard moved with his mouth while he spoke.

"It's like something's hunting us like goddamn _tigers_!" His voice rose. His compatriots either took swigs from their beers or looked at him like he was crazy.

"Yeah, well: these 'Romanovs' have to be ONI. Who else hunts us down like the goddamn KGB that they are?" A similar middle-aged man said, lifting his beer before drinking it with scarred lips from a knife fight.

"I'd say 'Gestapo'. Gestapo seems more in line with them." Another guy commented, pointing the tip of his bottle toward Jenkins.

"Except the Gestapo only hunted down anyone that wasn't purely German," Jenkins pointed out. "That, and it's old Earth shit." Jenkins added before continuing his rant. "My point is: we need to get out of here soon or we might end up with that damn Romanov symbol on our own goddamn bulkheads!" The old one ranted.

"Enough about 'em. They're an urban myth. A legend." All eyes turned towards a man in his late forties. Like Jenkins, he was graying. And like everyone else, his clothes weren't exactly clean. Well, that's what one got when living out here in the so-called 'sticks'. There were laundry machines, but water had to be fetched from either groups that supported them or by cracking ice asteroids. They had plenty of water, but it was food and ammo that they needed. Merchant ships rarely came their way as that one listening post had been 'mysteriously' silenced. And the supply ship that was sent after them was gone. The frigate that the UNSC sent? Not quite gone as they hadn't want anyone to know about their presence.

"Do 'legends' paint the inside halls our brothers and sisters' ships with their _own blood_ and paint a twin-headed eagle with one eye on the walls with gold paint?" Jenkins asked, remembering the stories he heard.

"I've never heard of ONI do something like that- or the UNSC at-large back when I was still serving in the Navy." The scarred-lip man said in his Russian accent. Or at least, Russian to someone from Earth or familiar with said accent. In reality, he came from a colony with a very Slavic population. Not Reach, though. He wouldn't be caught dead there. Then again, there were some folks that liked to cause trouble. Who didn't? The UNSC had their chance at trying to make things peaceful. Not everyone in the Insurrection was a blood-thirsty terrorist, to be fair.

The old man sighed, remembering his grandfather's tale of how the UNSC committed a massacre with what was supposed to be a peaceful protest in the last century. After that incident, tensions only got worse. After centuries of the government and the corporations making life hell for those whom just wanted an easy-going, hard-working life... how did they feel? How did they like it when civilians on their end started getting bombed in malls when the UNSC had done the same thing on villages? Then again, he sighed. Something strange was going on. He could feel it.

Just then, the intercom speakers in the bar crackled to life. _"This is Commander Rourke. All raiding parties: report to your craft for launch. We've got another whale."_ Their leader said with a grin before the intercom died.

Immediately, the patrons around the bar whooped, kissing their significant others good-bye and headed off to get their gear ready. Jenkins sighed, looking out of the viewport to the vacuum of space. The stars looked back as he thought. Yeah, he was a miner, but he was also smart. Well-kind of. The beer tended to affect his thinking. Ever since that one bombing over New Haven, people that he had known in the overall Insurrection had either wound up disappeared or dead. Victories? Sure. But, after New Haven, it looked as though the UNSC was cracking down. There was an Operation going on since '13 that was going... well... badly. They had victories, but the UNSC? They had nothing on the Romanovs. Nothing. He heard stories from guys out of the system like himself.

Space stations gone silent or were completely destroyed. Whole fleets that were hardened veterans against the UNSC either found as hulking wreckage by their brothers or disappeared, the occasional supply ship found drifting with only blood on the walls and the double-headed eagle. Certain areas of worlds that they had influence on destroyed were like goddamn Hiroshima or worse: New Haven. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his gut.

The old man stood up to go suit up for the oncoming raid when warning klaxons started to blare. The old man looked up in shock, his heart pounding with anxiety. He looked outside the viewport as the women started look around frantically with the few raiders that were about to leave also looking confused. He then looked back outside to the starry void. Something was moving against the stars light. You couldn't see it at first. He leaned close enough so that he could see his own reflection.

Suddenly, something big came flying at him. His eyes widened open before he turned to run. Something crashed through the viewport and the wall of the asteroid, making his body fly into the liquor bar about twenty feet behind him. Glass and bone shattered when his head hit the wall hard. Men and women screamed. He lost all sight of what happened next. If he had lived long enough, he wouldn't have wanted to.

XXX

"We'd better be in the right location this time," Sergeant Gaius Iulius sighed under his breath in a tone so low that he had 'hoped' that none could hear him. For an Astartes, that was practically impossible as he was in a boarding torpedo that just crashed into the 'lower-left-hand' wall of an asteroid a quarter as big as the Imperial Fists' _Phalanx._

The torpedo's hatch opened in front of him, revealing themselves to the denizens of the asteroid. Dust from the impact clouded around them. The area was possibly some kind of parlor or tavern for the heretics of this redoubt... if you could call it that. Similar sounds were felt as other boarding torpedoes hit their assigned targets.

In all his years, he'd never seen a much worse place to have a drink and a much worse crowd The bar was completely destroyed somehow. Most likely some poor bastard had gotten too close to the viewport before being launched. He could smell blood in the air along with piss and shit. There was a group of men and women, various ages. Obviously human. Diverse mixtures of skin color and tone. These were some of the rebels harrassing the United Earth Government, a (possible) nation that existed long before the Dark Age of Technology as well as the Imperium? These ruffians that looked more like underhive gangers than anything else? He wanted to shake his head. _Pathetic._ He stepped forward, his armored foot making the ground beneath him shake as his subordinates went alongside him. All of them had their boltguns at the ready, their Mark IV armor online and functioning.

"Your orders, Sergeant?" Trooper Titus Cicero asked as the squad of Astartes came out. By now, a few that were in the entranceway were actually fleeing. The women clutched their possible lovers or each other like frightened rabbits as they shook with fear.

"Do not fire unless fired upon, I see no one a-" Something caught his eye, the tell-tale glint of metal. He aimed his bolt-pistol faster than his would-be assailant and opened fire: the round, as big as a man's head, propelling itself towards its intended target, blasting through flesh and bone as a young man that would've pointlessly shot his armor, possibly scratching it, fell backwards without a head. Women screamed as they saw the carnage, his blood on their clothes and, regrettably, their faces. Fortunately, the round went down the hall somewhere and not into anyone else... for the rebels, at least.

"You've made the impression again, Sergeant." One of his subordinates mused.

"Shut your mouth, Quintus." Iulius snapped on the squad vox channel.

"If you wish to live:" He announced in a language his kind hadn't spoken in a long time. His vox grill made his voice even louder. "Then you will drop your weapons and kneel down. We will search you and then place you under our custody. Does anyone understand?" Iulius asked, looking at the crowd. No one said anything. Then, all of a sudden, the fresh smell of piss hit the air followed by not a few cowardly rebels fleeing for their lives as well. Iulius rolled his eyes under his helmet. Idiots. He had memorized the layout of the asteroid. The section they were heading for, if he was right, was under assault by the Space Wolves. Those poor bastards. As if on cue, the sounds of howling were heard by his augmented hearing. Followed by screams.

By now the crowd was on their knees begging to be spared, degrading themselves and their so-called 'dignity'.

"Cicero, Quintus, search these.." He scoffed. " _misguided children_ and bind them for transport back to the barge. After that: join us." Iulius said, marching forward through the crowd that gazed him in both awe and shock. The other seven members of his squad joined him to deal with their section of the asteroid.

XXXX

As soon as the pack exited the boarding torpedo, all bets were off. They howled wolfish howls, unleashing their canine rage upon their enemies as the Wolves of Fenris that they were. Although, technically speaking, they referred to themselves as the _Vylka Fenryka_ or 'The Rout' However, it had been a few somewhat-lonely centuries since they last laid eyes on Fenris... or the Wolf King for that matter. To their displeasure, they were trapped in this alternate timeline-or-past-or-whatever with their hated rivals (but also fellow Astartes of the Imperium and therefore the Allfather): the Dark Angels of Lion'el Jonson, the Raven Guard of Corvus Corax, Imperial Fists of Rogal Dorn, the Ultramarines of Roboute Gulliman, and lastly: the Iron Hands of the late Ferrus Manus, may he rest in peace. They had heard the stories- to die at the hands of a brother he had loved so much and whom took his heart out and crushed it with an offer of betraying their father? Disgraceful! Fulgrim would pay in blood for that. For now, they had to take care of some whelps that dared to cross their path.

The area that served as their killzone a few seconds before had been one of awe and shock to the human rebels in what was thought to be one of their manufacturing areas or perhaps a maintenance area. None of them was a ironpriest save Mimir back on the waiting strike cruiser orbiting this asteroid.

Bragi One-Eye, one of two Greyhunters amongst a pack of Bloodclaws, fired rounds from his boltgun into the enemy after exiting the boarding torpedo. True to their name as 'The Rout' and as the All-father's executioners, they fought like madmen. One Bloodclaw, Baldur Ghostman, attacked without a word as he cut down two enemy fighters with his chainblade, the fighters screaming in agony as they were cut in two. The warrior's eyes revealed bloodlust and eagerness to prove himself worthy. At his age, who hadn't? Everyone that was a Greyhunter and above had once been a Bloodclaw, eager to prove themselves. Others of Ghostman's pack: Loki Grinskull, Fenrir Bloodhowl, the twins- Magni and Modi Redmane, Freyr Hornhunter, Vali Trollslayer, Ull Fareye, Nari Grinskull (cousin to Loki of the same clan as rare as it was. But then again: there were a lot of rare coincidences and previously-unknown to the larger stranded _Vylka Fenryka_ to those stranded here and far from the _Imperium Primaris_ ). Last but not least- Bragi looked to his left before firing to see the one oddball that was looking around... confused as a newborn pup after coming out of its mother. That stupid bastard kept aiming his bolt pistol, then lowering it, trying to decide what to hit first

By stark contrast: Loki was laughing as he used his chain sword to take the literal top off of a female fighter's head, Fenrir actually _bit_ a normal man's throat like an animal as said man's rounds deflected off of his Mark IV armor when he held the stupid rebel by his head. He screamed as his throat became near-dinner. Vali shot another rebel, taking his head off in a gory mess right before the rebel could aim at Baldur, Freyr slashed a man's throat with a half of a pair of adamantium-strengthened antlers he had somehow procured, Ull aimed his own boltpistol and shot dead-center into another rebel taking both heart-and-life in the process, Nari laughed as well as blood washed over his face when he struck another one of the bastards with a chainsword, with Bragi being the idiot whelp that he was!

 _"For the Allfather's sake, Honir!"_ Bragi shouted at the youngest Bloodclaw in Fenrisian. _"Pick a target and kill it! It's not that fugging difficult!"_ Bragi roared, pointing a finger at him before using said finger to splatter a rebel's brains across the upper bulkhead with a bolt-round. The sounds of bolter-fire, chainswords, screams, and down-right murder echoed throughout the sort-of bay they found themselves in. Most likely some kind of repair bay if he had to hazard a guess. Still, at least it wasn't a vital place where they could accidentally kill themselves and everyone on this small-arse asteroid! He'd seen _the Phalanx_ before and this near-damnable thing would be nothing but a pebble compared to it. Then again, there'd be an unhappy Iron Priest or ten... or the entire _Martian Mechanicum Minor_. Ah, fug it! They had plenty of machinery and iron-works to fug with and research!

"If the lad wants to die, he wants to die!" Kvasir told his fellow Grey Hunter as he fired at a similar enemy above them. Bragi sighed as he rolled his eyes under his helmet. He swore to the Allfather and the Wolfking and back that something had gone wrong with Honir's trial. "Honir the Indecisive', 'Honir the Coward'. Well, that last bit wasn't _quite_ true. The lad was eager for battle, aye-but he was more focused on picking which target to take. The problem was that by the time he had done so: someone else would take it or the lad _himself_ would be taken. Honestly!

Bragi huffed as he had always felt that something had gone wrong with that whelp's trial. Just then: a miracle! Though one had to deny such a thing as technically speaking: the Imperial Truth... although that was somewhat fading in light of somewhat-recent events. Boltgun fire was heard to his left as soon as the door to the section they were now massacring was opened. A woman fell over, her left arm now blown off, screaming for aid in Pre-Imperial language. What was it? Englysh? Jerman? Francish? Hispahnic? Ah well. It wouldn't matter. Bragi was about to shoot her in the head when he noticed the hand grenade she had held. While it wouldn't have killed them all, he felt that Honir would've taken the grenade out, had he more accuracy.

Bullets pinged off of his right pauldron. He spun around, firing a burst of rounds into his target, oblitering the head, chest, and both arms of said rebel. The rest of the pack now scattering to take down easily-taken targets. The Grinskull cousins were already on their prey like a mad hound on its prey with his chain-sword. Ull took two more in quick succession near the entrance as well, both of the men too stunned to continue. Freyr charged his newest target with said antlers again, gashing the man's face before stabbing him in the eyes.

The pack had moved within a matter of a minute and a half towards every corner of the maintenance bay, dealing with every non-Astartes as they saw fit. Cowards that hid were found and their lives ended with either a bolt pistol, a stomp, a kick, or a slice from a chainsword. Fighters fared just as much, though they had a wee bit of honor in them to fight. The last of them, a strong-looking bull of a human male, with a leather jacket and an earring whimpered as he saw the corpses of his friends and fellow rebels. He looked at their killers, his comrades' blood painted all over them. Loki chuckled, eyeing the man as did his cousin. Just then, before anyone else could speak, a loud shot rang through the air and the man's head exploded. All eyes turned to Honir with a look of displeasure and annoyance.

 _"Oh, so now you shoot!"_ Kvasir scolded him, a spatter of blood covering him. Honir shrugged. His packmates looked at him with disdain. Bragi and Kvasir sighed, looking at each other. Clearly, the lad wasn't cut out for eager combat... keyword 'combat'. He was too damned young to be a Grey Hunter and too damned indecisive. It was like he was more suited to being an equerry or something!

 _"Dammit, Honir! I was hoping to kill that one!"_ Loki yelled, aiming a blood-soaked gauntlet to his now-dead-would-be-prey. Just then, they heard the sound of footsteps in the distance. Most likely more prey. All eyes eyed the door with hungry eyes.

"So, we all fire at the door?" Honir suggested, looking around. They looked at him in thought for just a moment.

Kvasir thought about it as the footsteps drew closer. He shrugged, his graying mane moving as it rested with his shoulders.

"Y'know what? Smartest thing you've done and said all day." Kvasir said, aiming at the door with his boltgun.

"Fug that! I'm dying for some more!" Loki smiled as he readied to run towards it.

"You'll get shot, ya' daft bastard!" Bragi scolded, also aiming at the door.

"Ah, fug it!" Modi said, dismissively. Right as the door opened, the Bloodclaw pack howled, charging at their now-frightened opponents, mere men that thought themselves a match for would-be gods. Kvasir and Bragi howled with them as they charged. To Hel with it all. At least the dumb ones would get weeded out, hopefully. Then again, the Chapter was like an over-arching wolfpack... and a pack was like a family. A murderous, insane, All-father-loving, family. A family now fragmented forever.

XXXX

Commander Jason Rourke, the last known leader of the United Insurrectionist/Resistance Front, stared in horror at the camera footage that showed something beyond his worst nightmare. Below deck (and above), he could hear the sounds of devastating gunfire, the screams of men and women calling for help or pleading for mercy. He suspected (no- _he knew_ ) not a few gunshots were those of suicide. He could smell the blood, piss, and shit amongst the recycled air as he stood in his command center, the dying echoes of requests for orders that would never come, pleas for aid that would go unanswered either in the negative or the positive, curses that would go unchallenged from subordinates that would hate him in the darkest and hottest pits of Hell if it existed. Whereas a few minutes before, he had been haughty and overconfident in ordering a small fleet of fast and maneuverable raiding Pelicans and an obsolete frigate plus a few makeshift ones (as well from yachts that he stole and whose crews and passengers he had both murdered and ordered to be murdered) to embark and raid what he thought was some decked out merchant ship. Now, he was the one being raided.

It would seem as if all the sins against humanity that he had committed, all the lives he murdered, all the ships he had destroyed and stolen, the installations he raided and destroyed, the women and children whose lives he had murdered and stolen- all of them were coming back to haunt him and in the end: drag his soul kicking and screaming into the void that he had sent so many bodies into.. or worse.

The redoubt's sensors, before they were taken off-line by a single flight of mysterious fighters, showed the massive thing he had arrogantly called 'whale': a gargantuan monstrosity more strange and terrifying than any UNSC ship he had ever fought against. He had assumed it was nothing more than a tricked out merchant vessel. He had been wrong.

That thing, upon its entrance into the system, faster than his sensors could detect, faster than any defense he could muster: launched two types attacks simultaneously. The first had been some kind of boarding craft, shit that dug into the redoubt's rocky hull and then deposited its demonic payload. The other had been some kind of fighter or bomber screen that took out his sensors and communications array, blinding him electronically save for if he needed to look outside. There had been only one fighter screen. One sole fighter... or what had to be one. He couldn't be sure. It was too fast to be a UNSC Longsword fighter. Too damn fast and precise. The boarding action saw about four craft. Four squads of inhuman bastards slaughtering his people. Four groups of monsters that wore armor like men and yet... not so.

The bar that served as one of the few recreational centers on this station was taken. Almost of the fighters ran with one guy dying before he could fire a shot at one of those... _things._ The maintenance bay was also taken with its much more resistant fighters being easily killed outright and without any sense of mercy. The hangar bay was an option but the bastards were too quick, too fast, and absolutely worse than anything the UNSC had thrown against him in recent memory. The armory? A squad of those bastards came in, slaughtered all of the fighters as well, but not the unarmed like that second group. The hangar bay was too risky as all access to it by now was cut off The generator room that powered the station had also been taken by another group of them. A four-pronged assault that saw to the end of the remaining UI/RF fleet.

He sat in his chair in what used to be the former mine's administration center, his subordinates looking for a way out or preparing for one last stand by mining the entrances through low-tech means. Their calls for him went unanswered as he contemplated and bemoaned his fate.

He should've seen the signs: all the times that the meetings had been missed by an increasing number of now-dead-or-missing-allies, the rumors and stories, everything. He should've evacuated everyone and run for someplace else, someplace with a strong Insurrectionist presence. It was too late now. He rubbed his face in the darkness. It was too late. He looked down at his sidearm. Better dead by his own hand than at the hands of those monsters.

XXX

"For fuck's sake, boss: say _something_!" Karl Rodriguez barked as he and Mark Verra jerry-rigged a frag grenade to go off as soon as someone stepped on it. They also put trip-wire mines as well. None of those bastards were getting in without a fight and a scratch to show for it! A loud gunshot echoed behind him. Both men stopped and turned around at it, instinctively producing their side-arms. Both of their faces paled. A Magnum with a smoking barrel lay on the floor with their boss's head pulled back, his brains and the rear part of his skull gone and splattered all of the deck and the bulkhead behind him.

 _"Jesus Christ,"_ Verra said in horror, his arms hanging simply at the sight.

Rodriguez sighed and rubbed his face. _"Fuck,"_ He muttered, realizing he was now in command.


	15. Assault on Freedom's Refuge II

Chapter 15

 _(A/N: On the one hand: more content! On the other: Forgive me if I misportrayed the Iron Hands)_

 _September 2519_

 _UI/RF Installation: Freedom's Refuge_

 _Omega-Theta system_

 _Outer Colonies_

 _UEG Space_

Sergeant Gaius Iulius had been named the on-site commander for this mission. There weren't any lieutenants as he was being named as a possible promotion to Veteran Sergeant. Not that he didn't care, it was that he preferred being a squad leader after so many strange centuries. Besides, the very squad he fought with was roughly the same squad that he had fought in before the traitorous actions of the Warmaster. Bastard sack of shite. To think he had been named Warmaster after the Triumph at Ullanor! _Unbelievable!_ Should've been Gulliman or Dorn! Sanguinius, for Terra's sake, was better! Then again, Horus had been the Emperor's favored son (though rumor had it that Sanguinius was close to the Emperor's mind as well) and he tore not just his father's heart out but everyone else's as well! Fugging mad bastard. That, and technically speaking, well... He almost stopped to think of it all as he turned to his remaining brothers: Crassus, Scipio, Marius, Nero, Augustus, Vespasian, Minervo, and of course: the two men he had left to take care of the prisoners: the 'Bad-Mouth' Twins he liked to call them. That or the 'Smart-Arse' twins he joked to other Sergeants. Though he was harsh with them, he couldn't deny that they were much needed comic relief in remaining/stranded _Legionnes Astartes._

Out of the 250,000 Ultramarines of the XIII Legion: Only the equivalent of six companies from the Tenth, First, Third, Fourth, Eight, and Ninth Chapters were all here. It was very odd though. Those same Chapters had formerly been... He shook his head. The past was the past. He had been nothing more than a newly formed line trooper back then. Fresh off of the now-dead battlefields of the Solar System. Horus had been found back then... Traitorous...fucking...Horus.

They advanced in usual Ultramarines-style: use Gulliman's tactics when clearing rooms and hallways. The so-called 'Armor-Piercing' rounds that the enemy had been using merely bounced off of their armor- _if_ they were ever fired. The hallways were filled with nothing but the hellish cacophony of war: boltguns firing in brief bursts, heads and body parts exploding in a gory manner, painting the walls red with wet viscera. A truly evil task... but one suited for warriors. He had remembered hearing how the Crusade was quite possibly near its end. After reuniting all of the lost colonies of Man, what then? What was left for warriors in peace-time? Garrison-duty was an utter 'no' for most Legions save the Iron Warriors, Imperial Fists, and of course: the Ultramarines. The problem was: the Iron Warriors, one had to admit privately, had done more than their fair share of garrison duty. He could possibly see why Perturabo had rebelled. Then again, he wasn't a fugging Primarch… although-

He shook his head, grunting. No. He was _done_ thinking about those days. The Second Legion was gone. Over and done with. Disbanded and absorbed into the XIII Legion. He fired a little more aggressively than he should've while his squad advanced to the entrance to the former administration center, no believed to be the rebel command center.

He had planned this with Captain Leonidas, the overall force-commander for Astartes strikes and operations in United Earth Government Space... also the- He blinked, nearly dropping his boltgun. Damn it! What was wrong with him today?! Why did he keep thinking about it?!

"You alright, sir?" Scipio asked, curious as bullets pinged off his helmet, only to be answered with a boltgun's roar.

"No, trooper. I'm not alright." Iulius initially confessed on the squad channel. "I'm dealing with misguided, upstart children on a piss-poor excuse for a redoubt! The Imperial Fists are most likely complaining about the architecture by now!" The Ultramarines Sergeant deflected, earning a laugh from his squad as they advanced, obliterating all resistance. It wouldn't be long now.

XXX

 _'Dorn's words wouldn't even be wasted on such a miserable place'_ , Sargent Wihlhelm Helsbuhrg thought to himself. It was, in essence, somewhat be true. This place was vastly inferior compared to the Phalanx. This piss-poor excuse for a 'redoubt' much less a 'base' was nothing more than a mere hideaway for pirates pretending to be rebels! He didn't know what was worse: his (possible) ancestors fighting (much less worth the notion of possibly even being related to) these shit-mockeries of human beings, or the fact that such shitty things existed in the first place! He scoffed, a remnant of his old Jerman honor still surviving. He paused. Damn... he hadn't thought about home in a long time. Then again, his family disowned him, their private disloyalty to the Emperor finally being rewarded on a brutal retaliation after it was discovered they had been involved in anti-Imperial activities... after so conveniently surrendering to the old Thunder Warriors. By then, he had been fighting in the Great Crusade for seventy years. Conniving bastards... almost like Horus.

"They fight well, but their fortifications are incredibly... lax." Trooper Auhgsbuhrg commented as he fired on a rebel aiming some kind of poor excuse for a projectile-based machine gun... with three-linked rotating barrels no less, at them. Said rebel lost his head and the idiot had pulled the trigger right as he died with the gun shooting as it went to its resting place by its dead owner's side. Its last rounds of life chopping down two other rebels whom now screamed for 'medics' or 'Mommas' or something like that. Unbelievable. And the Emperor sent _them_ to fight this lot?

The Space Wolves, at the very least a loyal pack of dogs, were enjoying this. As for Helsbuhrg and his men? No. This was a poorly defended position with nothing but raw manpower. No autocannons, no advanced shields, the blast doors were a joke, there was rust on the walls and pipes, the rock tunnels were narrow and short, yes. But... there was almost no place for Astartes to take cover. That, and the armor plating was thick enough to possibly stop a frag grenade from going off, but that was a M3 grenade. Astartes frag grenades from M31 were a lot more devastating and would send them all into space with a near hope of recovery. The 'recovery' being for the Astartes. No one could give a damn about the rebels. Those that didn't surrender and weren't backstabbers at least.

As the Ultramarines' squad had entered through the recreational area, the Space Wolves squad through the maintenance bay, the Iron Hands' boarding the armory, Hehlsbuhrg's squad had come in through, of all places: the generator room. Thanks to extensive field experience and training in long-distance combat, they had made sure not to damage anything that would destroy life support or power down the station to make things... difficult at least.

Captain Leonidas had been quite clear: take as many prisoners as you can, cleanse the station of any that resist, don't kill any that surrendered (the Space Wolves's sector was an exception), and then get out with the prisoners and leave all signs of carnage (but almost no evidence, save that of a servitor painting the Aquila onto a bulkhead or several) and then leave the system to do more strikes. No wait: the Salamanders,, and Raven Guard squads in other systems were conducting strikes as well. Everyone else was harassing Xenos, obliterating exploratory fleets that ventured too close to Stranded Imperial borders or exploring and securing those strange xenos constructs elsewhere. He hadn't heard much about them, but the Iron Hands' Stranded Clan and at the very least: one of the Ultramarines' mixed companies had that task. Along with the Raven Guard and a Dark Angels Company, if the rumors were true. Now, as to the Blood Angels: nothing. That was the kicker. If there was a stranded Blood Angels presence, they were never found. As if they never arrived. Odd. Then again, he had heard rumors of them, what had happened during certain events back before Horus did his treachery, even before Ullanor and the Great Crusade if they were true enough.

If he was human, he would've shuddered. Then again: he felt no fear: only somberness and stern resolve as he and his squad advanced to their objective. All four squads, by now, had taken and captured their objectives like clockwork. Part of the battle plan was to take all outlying sections: then lay a brief siege to the Administration center. Either the rebels' remaining commanders would surrender or die. He didn't care. Well, only a little if they had information.

 _XXX_

Segeant Borin Harekar of the Fourth squad of the Iron Hands 73rd Clan Company, a part of the stranded Iron Hands contingent of the overall Stranded Imperial _Legiones Astartes_ , grunted in anger at the sheer weakness of the entirely biological- impure human rebels they faced... that defended the very electronic heart whose energy-blood ensured that this installation would live along with its worthless inhabitants. These humans were too weak. Too biological... too _impure_.

His squad slowly moved throughout the armory, ensuring that no stray round wouldn't hit munitions. They had disembarked merely three-point-five-two seconds earlier, their first rounds calculated: slaughtering more than a platoon's worth of heretics, grievously/fatally wounding around a squad or so. Any rebel that came out to fire at expected angles or positions was dealt with in cold, calculating, hated passion. One round each. Any more than that was a sheer waste.

Harekar didn't stop as he recalculated his train of thought. Not even the screams of slaughtered rebels disrupted his thinking. No: the Emperor had clearly spoken: this was a time period in which humanity had went to other worlds earlier than in their home time period and reality. He had studied history quite well. As had the other Iron Hands along with the political and military history of the 'United Earth Government' a somewhat-possible ancestor to the modern Imperium of Man. Also: as an inferior side-note: a strange name for a human nation: 'United Earth Government'... that was more as a term for a political society as opposed to a nation. There was the Colonial Administration which served the Government but... seriously? This was... Hatred fumed through his veins. Hatred for what was occurring and what had occurred along with what would occur.

Though his gene-seed lacked any physical flaws, it was a possibility that his hatred had been passed down from the now-dead Gorgon- whose death still haunted and infuriated his now-orphaned sons. Their gene-father had been murdered by his one-time former brother, a Primarch whom had been the equal to Ferrus, but tore his heart out and murdered Ferrus Manus , decapitating him with one swing in view of both the Emperor's Children and the Iron Hands on Isstvan V along with so many other Legions. So many of their brothers dead. So many bodies... so much blood, so many dead brothers... and so many living heretics. The Emperor's Children, from what he had heard from other Astartes that fought them: were now nothing more than hedonistic sado-masochists. Motherless bastards that should be wiped clean from existence for their betrayal of their former brotherly bond.

His squad marched ever slowly, but ever so with the cold-yet-fiery wrath of orphaned sons that lost their beloved father, their shots a calculation of vengeance. Blood painted the bulkheads, the weapons-lockers, the armor racks, and benches. Screams echoed, dimmed, and then died along with whimpers. To the dying, they gave an adjusted version of the Emperor's Mercy: one stomp to the head. If they fired rounds to the deck below, that would be ill-advised and illogical. Said round would possibly lead to the injury and/or death of brother Iron Hands. Then again: if it was a biological attachment like an arm or a leg: then yes. That needed to be replaced. Their father, Ferrus, had a form of silver that was attached to his arms after he faced a particular beast on Medusa. In his honor, Ferrus's sons had their limbs voluntarily amputated and replaced with cybernetic prosthetics. Unlike these pathetic rebels! So biological... so weak. So pathetic.

Harekar exited the armory once the site was confirmed secure, including the on-site restrooms where several rebels hid and were dispatched. Their blood now painting said restrooms in biological red. With himself as the lead, his second-in-command: Gar Avernii to follow along with the others, rounds dinged off his helm and armor. In cold calculation, he slew ten in several shots with well-placed shots in the intersection: Five rebels to the right corridor, (Two ran away actually in sheer cowardice) and four in the center corridor (Three more dispatched cowards), All within eighteen seconds with Avernii taking five on the left corridor. The third Astartes behind them, Mar Tyrskar, fired at four down the right as the squad made a formation as they exited, firing as accurately as possible at fleeing enemies. One cannot allow heresy against the Emperor, or by extension: ancestors to the glorious Imperium and its Truth, to go unanswered. One must answer with harsh and cold, calculating bolterfire. As their bolterfire died down, Hareskar opened a vox channel to the Ultramarines squad.

"Team Primaris, Team Quatrus: we have secured the armory and are making our way to our objective. Break. Be advised: we will be down-strength by two-thirds." He checked his internal map of the station they were on and found their section. He scanned the passageways and corrected himself.

"Correction: We will _not_ be down-strength. Be advised: rebels are advancing to Team Secundus's sector. Inquisitive: Shall I send one-fifth of my squad to deal with them?" He asked, angered that he may have to lengthen the time. They would be late as they had to be thorough in making sure that no rebel would survive their cold, slow rampage to the rendezvous point. There were four ways to the station's admin center: And each squad would control an entrance way to it. There, they would then assault, if negotiations with the rebel leader would fail. That had been the plan... a very illogical plan. Then again: the traitors would receive justice either by handing them over to the UEG's so-called 'Office of Naval Intelligence' or be turned into servitors. That, or just tossed out the airlock. A boltgun might do as well. The airlock option was somewhat-logical but also somewhat time-consuming. Possibly even a weakness. Handing them over to ONI? Diplomatic, yes. But, also a cause for irritation: Imperial Astartes found them, Imperial Astartes interrogated or executed them. UEG space, but Imperial forces. Then again, UEG space-UEG law. He'd let the decision lie with the on-site commander: Iulius.

Biological fecal waste. He almost forgot, his head bolting upright. Had anybody-A mere nano-second later. No-no. The hangar bay was going to be cleared by the Space Wolves Iron Priest back on the battle barge.

XXX

As soon as the boarding had happened, the Insurrectionists in the hangar bay were at first wondering what was going on... then several had come from the rec-room screaming about murderous giants. The blood of fallen comrades on their still-living bodies was testament to that fact. Around a platoon's worth had chosen to stay behind and guard it. However, there was the fact that some kind of ship was out there that was or was not the source of the boarders. Paralyzed with indecision: a brave-but foolish-few decided to take the fight to these murderous giants... only to be slaughtered by Nordic-looking psychopaths wearing massive suits of powered armor that looked like Medieval-Age plate armor almost. But, the ones in the hangar bay didn't know. At least, not until this was over.

By then, the hangar bay somehow magically opened, thanks to the station's network being hacked from the battle barge's bridge outside. All of the occupants and whatever unsecured craft had been inside was now lost to the void. A few had clung to something before being shot out of the room like arrows after a combination of exiting air pressure and oxygen. All of the rebels died ignoble and unenvious deaths.

Five minutes later, as negotiations were being held, a Thunderhawk flew past the floating bodies that by now were floating through the endless void, their mouths forever in an airless scream... if they still existed as bodies. Once it landed on a pad stable and strong enough for it, the door bays were again closed by the Iron Priest and air pressure was restored. By then, negotiations were thankfully concluded to the Imperials' favor.


	16. 16:Fall of Freedom's Refuge

_Chapter 16_

 _(A/N: Please note: I have edited Chapters 14 and 15. I even added an Iron Hands perspective to 15's end. You are welcome, but please let me know on how to improve and I shall do so if I can. Here is Chapter 16._

 _+++Thought for the day: 'We don't negotiate with terrorists' does sadly tend to happen to prevent further casualties, unless certain special forces are involved. Then it's a bloodbath for the terrorists.+++_ _)_

 _September 2519_

 _UI/RF Asteroid Redoubt Freedom's Refuge_

 _Omega-Theta System_

 _UEG Space_

"Quatrus, Primaris: Noted. Please make all due haste towards Rendezvous Point as possible. Primaris is now almost there. Over." Iulius said on the vox channel for the combined team. He then started voxing the other squads. "Secundus, Tertius: Primaris: How copy?" The Ultramarines squad leader asked.

 _"Primaris, Secundus,"_ Hehlsbuhrg answered. _"We are en-route to your position. This structure is inadequately defended. Break. We will be there on short notice. ETA: Zero-three mikes. Over."_ The Imperial Fist's Sergeant answered.

 _"Primaris, Tertius."_ Bragi One-Eye sounded off. _"Me and the lads are having some fun. We'll see you when we get there. Over."_ Bragi reported.

"Primaris copies all: Primaris: Out." He said and then sighed. Terra-damned Space Wolves! Always so damn... Gah! He had long-ago learned to discipline himself. The Space Wolves served the Emperor as Executioners, though not many knew this. The World Eaters were their rivals on combat terms. However, he had never heard of Space Wolves and World Eaters fighting each other... well... perhaps a few rumors here and there. Maybe even a bar fight? No. The World Eaters had been on the fringes before the war with Horus began, he remembered. The Wolves had been en-route to Prospero. Unfortunately, they lost not a few to the Warp before and after certain events occurred distorting the Astronimican.

His squad was now approaching the rendezvous point. Well... one of. The admin center was accessible from four different directions. The plan was to surround it and offer whatever was left of the rebels inside one chance to surrender. If not: they died. Normally, they'd take prisoners if it was just civilized and disciplined Legions like the Ultramarines or the Imperial Fists. But, the Iron Hands and the Space Wolves were involved. They couldn't afford another war between Astartes, especially those loyal to the Emperor.

He turned his head as his squad took up positions a mere four meters from one entrance to the Admin section. A survey of the damage revealed nothing but dead rebels, hallways painted in blood and filled with bullet-holes. (nothing that threatened an exposure to the vacuum), the air now smelled of a complex and disgusting mixture of blood, bolter-fire, and for some reason: gas. He had heard that the Machine Assault rifles used in this time period were gas operated. That, and the current used model fired six hundred rounds a minute with a hundred rounds per clip. Interesting. Almost as half as good as a bolter. He lightly patted his firearm. Nothing beats bolters. Save heavy ones... cannons... his smile turned upside down. Dammit, good moment ruined.

XXX

 _"Oi, Rod?"_ A voice asked on the com-channel on Rod's head-seat. It was a heavy-accented Spanish-Scotch voice.

"Yeah, Rory?" Rodriguez-now Acting Commander of the remnant of the United Insurrectionist/Resistance Forces- asked, helping set additional traps. So far, they had put up laser-mines on the hallways in Admin, now being fortified into a makeshift fortress. Every old office that either served as quarters for now-dead commanders in what was left of the outfit was now booby-trapped. Every goddamned hall-or-doorway was now trapped with trip-wired frag grenades and LOTUS mines, and what have you. if they were going to fight and die, better for those bastards to suffer some maiming before it all went down. At least they would die as martyrs... while giving the enemy something to remember them by that was a hell of a lot worse than an STD!

"We're seeing a bunch of those pendejos outside. They're four meters out and they've taken defensive positions." Rory reported.

"Have they tried anything?" Rodriguez asked.

"No. _Nada_." Rory answered. Rodriguez frowned, activating the last mine. He went back to the Command Center and looked at the footage feed. Crying was heard from what few women and children were holed up here. Whatever comfort their moms or friends ended in vain. At least their end would be quick... or so it was hoped.

He checked footage. Hangar bay was unoccupied, but it looked fruitless to get anyone over here, they'd be slaughtered. He was hoping to send a message to them. All of a sudden: his footage flickered. He blinked. What the fuck? It resumed playing. He looked at footage of other areas: There was another group: similar armor, somewhat similar tactics that was advancing from the 'west', with another group advancing from the 'north' with one last group that looked incredibly and disgustingly different than the others. Same kind of armor, but different tactics. What the fuck was this? Some kind of cyborg raid of freaks? That one wild group looked like they literally bathed in blood and had been laughing as they slew friends and comrades with no hint of remorse or compassion.

Another group was cold and calculating, being thorough in its movements, eliminating any and all. Two different tactics: one up close and personal, the other? thorough, but also ranged, using o nly rounds that exploded heads and tore apart bodies. His eyes squinted. "Wait a minute," He muttered. He looked at other footage. Another group was moving up, near the western entrance. These guys were ranged combat users like the ones before. Not slow, or calculating. They way they moved was like it was a fucking siege... which it was! He frowned. All four of these groups wore different colored armor... that looked largely the same. Four groups. Different colors... same armor... different various tactics...

 _"Vijo de puta!"_ He swore! Whoever this was- it was a fucking joint op! Not fucking ONI-not even they were this bat-shit _loco_! _Cazzo! Mierda!_ He tried to think. The blues looked reasonable, judging by how they took prisoners. Everyone else? Not so much. The yellows looked to be much more shoot first, acting like they were sieging the place. The black giants? They were slow, methodical, calculating, thorough, but shot like they were mad as hell. The grays were clearly psycopathic, murderous bastards that would've made certain other factions of the wider Insurrectionist movement blush with shame or pale with fear and piss themselves. All of them wore the same kind of medieval-esque looking power armor. ONI and the wider UNSC didn't use that shit. He'd been former CMA before turning on his pig employers. He'd seen enough colonists struggling under Earthborn-corporate rules and restrictions. These guys didn't look like corporate types... something else. They were some kind of human... and yet... not. Whom were they? Who made these guys? Who trained them? What units were there? So many questions, so many lives lost and so little time.

He then realized something and closed his eyes. _Shit._ There'd been a mistake on their part."We're being boxed in... and we booby-trapped everything." He sighed to himself, rubbing his face. The blues looked like they were going to wait for the other teams to be in position, then either negotiate or kill them all. There was going to be one hell of a mess. _'Maybe'_ , Rodriguez thought to himself, _'I should've stayed with the CMA and or just never joined the movement.'_

Rodriguez then started to call his section leaders... no-not 'section'... 'group' leaders. Mostly ten or fifteen guys each or others that didn't see shit that were now taking up arms for the first time. He was going to inform them of his decision. They had boxed themselves in... and if these guys were smart... they'd either leave... or they'd use the traps to kill them. That, or the traps wouldn't even put a dent in their armor. Who knows? Maybe they might leave and blow the station... with the Innies on it? Who could tell?

XXX

 _"Primaris, Secundus: we are dealing rebels from Quatrus's sector. Break."_ The Imperial Fists sergeant followed. Merely ten seconds later after he heard the sounds of bolter fire and the faint sounds of human screams. _"Primaris, Secundus: all rebels from Quatrus sector are now KIA. I say again: EKIA. Over."_ The Imperial Fists squad leader reported.

 _"Secundus, Quatrus: Our thanks, Praetorians of Terra. Quatrus out."_ The leader of the orphaned Iron Hands on this asteroid answered. Iulius smiled. Well, least someone was getting along these days.

 _"Quatrus, Secundus: Always 'happy' to help out our brothers deal with traitors. Over and Out."_ The Imperial Fists answered. Iulius blinked as he turned to his second. Did that Imperial Fist just joke? Those bastards were usually so dour and grim. That, and somewhat reserved like Dorn. He couldn't help but wonder what happened to Dorn and Gulliman? Or Lion'El Jonson and Jaghatai Khan? He sighed. So many questions that may never be answered until after he died.

Just then, the station's intercom system crackled to life. _"To the guys besieging our base, we'd like to talk."_ The voice from the speakers said. It sounded like Terran Hispanic mixed with Itahlian. Not necessarily an odd combination. He was from Roma itself. Captain Leonidas was from the old Olympian Hegemony back on Terra, back when the Great Crusade raged. _"There's been enough bloodshed, order your guys to stop killing. We want to talk."_ The man pleaded, trying to hold on to whatever was left of his dignity. _"I have control of all the cameras on the station, and I can activate the code for the generator to self-destruct and kill us all. Either way: this ends. We just want to talk." The rebel spokesman, possibly the leader, announced._

 _"Tertius, Primaris: Inquisitive: Did that whoreson just threaten to kill us all? Over." Bragi asked with a scoff over the strike force's vox channel so all would hear. Iulius chuckled a little._ _"Primaris to all squads: Yes, that fool just did threaten us." Iulius affirmed with a sigh, shaking his head. This idiot was asking for trouble. Arrogant bastard._

 _"Primaris, Quatrus: We are now en-route to our objective. Over."_ The Iron Hands sergeant reported.

 _"Primaris, Tertius: Same here, Son of Gulliman. We're moving to ours. Besides: nothing much for us to kill right now. Over."_ Bragi One-Eye affirmed.

 _"Primaris, Secundus: We have reached our objective and are now setting up position to attack on your order. Over."_ Hehlsbuhrg ordered.

 _"Primaris, Tertius: You can give the order, we'll join you as soon as we arrive."_ Bragi said more as an order. Fenrisian bastard should stick to protocol. Then again, the Space Wolves were a bit anti-authoritarian- despite being loyal to the Emperor and to the Wolf King.

"Tertius, Primaris: Negative. He wishes to parlay? Then parlay we shall." Iulius answered, shrugging.

 _"Primaris, Quatrus: Acting Commander, I believe that is illogical and ill-advised. Break. We are close to taking them all out in a matter of say-four minutes, perhaps less."_ The Iron Hands sergeant protested with no small amount of anger in his mechanical tone.

 _"Primaris, Secundus: I concur with Quatrus. Negotiating with this filth would be ill-advised. We are the 'Angels of Death', not 'Angels of Mercy'."_ Hehlsbuhrg agreed with his Iron Hands counter-part.

 _"All squads, Primaris: Rules of Engagement were quite clear for this mission: If the enemy leaders want to surrender and negotiate, we shall. Break: I let you all operate on your own (subserviant) ROEs as I saw fit. Break. However: we do this by the overall book. Over."_ Iulius commanded.

He heard Bragi grunt under his breath right as a new voice came onto the Vox channel.

 _"Fug you, you sea-colored shite!"_ A voice roared in unmistakable Fenrisian on the vox channel. It wasn't Bragi. There was full silence on the vox channel as Iulius closed his eyes, knowing it was one of the Bloodclaws.

"To whomever shouted that comment: I will let this slide due to fraternity between our Legions as we are all brothers stranded here. I'll let your elders deal with you later. My order still stands and that is final. As the Emperor wills it. Primaris out." Iulius ordered in a tired voice. Terra-damn Bloodclaws! Too eager for their own good. An Ultramarines Scout would act in much better discipline and keep his trap _shut_! He then used his vox's external speakers.

 _"Am I speaking to the leader or an equerry of the rebel faction occupying this installation?"_ Iulius asked aloud. He looked ahead to see his men were aiming at the rebels ahead of them, whom aimed back with Machine Assault rifles, shot guns, pistols, and what have you. All inferior to the superior fire arms of Astartes and the wider Imperium.

 _"I'm the leader of what remains of the United Insurrectionst/ Resistance Forces of Freedom's Refuge. So yeah: I'm in charge."_ The station's intercom speakers sighed, his shrug being heard.

"I am Gunnery Sergeant Gaius Iulius of the United Nations Space Command's United Earth Space Corps' Raiders." He said, using what historical knowledge he knew of this time period(along with some fictional exaggeration). Yes, he had to admit it: he was lying like a Terran snake.

 _"Alright, Gunny."_ The leader said with unease and no small amount of suspicion. _"How about you call off your dogs and we don't blow us all into space?_ " The leader threatened with smiling gall over the station's intercom. Iulius laughed, something akin to a coal engine coughing. He knew the truth.

"How about we do indeed leave-and then blow your station from outside: with you alone in the void along with your mother-less bastards?" Iulius countered.

 _"Listen here, Julius-fucking-Caesar: I'm not lying to you: you killed our comrades and our women! You bastards are psyopathic schizophrenics that fight like fucking demons than men!"_ The leader roared at him.

"Oh?" Iulius said, tilting his head before continuing. "Then tell that to all the families you've orphaned, all the civilians you tossed into the void from those merchant and passenger vessels. Their numbers lie in the mere thousands, perhaps tens of thousands by you and your faction alone. Multiply that by other factions, your 'brothers', and the numbers turn into millions- perhaps more. Compared to today? I'd say your losses would be a very _small_ drop in a very _large_ bucket." Iulius said with no hint of empathy towards them. "And last I checked: Your women fought as well." He added. "Not only that: but you act and fight like children as well." He taunted. "Honestly: for all of your faction's combined strength and intelligence, for all of your intelligence amongst the criminal network that is the Insurrectionist movement: how in the hell haven't you bastards even considered _trying_ a strike against Earth's command structure? How in the _hell_ haven't you taken out their command structure in _all_ the decades you've fought? Are you actually fighters of a resistance? Or are you actually nothing more than stupid cowards that run and hide because of taxation?" Iulius taunted.

XXX

 _"Cock-sucking piece of shit!"_ Rodriguez barked into the mike. "You come here to our home and you talk shit in it too?! Fuck you! And the pigs of the UNSC!" He yelled so loud, his voice cracked like a child entering puberty. This shit-talking inhuman...Fuck! He had been stalling for time as one of the few technicians left tried to see if he could kick-start the remote-self-destruct charges they had put in the generator room. Unfortunately... things weren't going to plan as the tech kept swearing silently. Outside, his remaining Insurrectionist brothers clutched their weapons ready for a last stand.

 _"Sheepdogs, actually."_ The 'Gunny' known as 'Iulius' spoke to him calmly and matter-of-fact over the intercom, his voice clearly heard.

Rodriguez looked at him incredulously. "What?" He asked.

 _"Pigs are fat pieces of meat used as livestock,"_ Iulius said aloud as the acting commander watched him. He couldn't mistake the leader as a trooper as he stood alone, his massive gun aimed at the deck. _"The UNSC's armed forces are more akin to 'sheepdogs' in my opinion."_ Iulius said and then continued. _"Oh, and by the way: That trouble you're having activating the self-destruct sequence for your generator?"_ The massive inhuman monster laughed like a coal engine coughing up smoke. _"We planned for that,"_ Iulius revealed showing his proverbial hands. Rodriguez and the technician, a trusted friend and a long-time member of the movement looked at eachother right as something caught his eye on the array of camera feeds. He looked at the one for the hangar bay. His eyes widened in horror as he stood up, swearing in horror. He saw people and unsecured ships, not to mention Pelicans, get blasted off into space as controls for the doors were already overridden.

 _"Santo Mierda!"_ The tech behind him shouted in shock and horror, clutching his mouth. His face paled. The odor of piss was smelled throughout the air. The guards outside came in asking. One look at the footage for the hangar revealed why. Panic started to come through.

That monster's voice came through. _"Don't bother with the self-destruct sequence. While we've been making our way to you: our own technicians were hacking into your station's systems, locking your own access out. In essence: we can blow your station from our own ship none the wiser right after we leave."_ Iulius smugly gloated-that Terran _bastard_!

Ranting in Spanish, one of the guards stormed out, briefly forgetting about the laser-mines they put on the wall. Only for it to explode as his foot stepped through it in his confounding anger. The shrapnel struck his neck, eyes, face, and his leg. He died with a brief scream. Thus began a great panic as men and women stood up and started running for no other reason than panic and confusion, setting off the mines and traps before anyone could stop them.

After a minute or so of chaos, the Admin center was full of screaming dead or dying men and women with children crying even more.

XXX

" _Unbelievable_ : they really _are_ undisciplined children." Iulius scoffed in disbelief at what just happened. He now could hear the cries of actual children... those idiots!

"Primaris to all squads: Advance but only kill the adults that are dying or attack you! I say again: all squads advance but only kill the adults that are dying or attack you!" Iulius roared, walking through. His squad now advanced. Bolterfire echoed, killing those that dared to raise their guns with bloodied-shredded fingers. Those on the floor had their heads smashed by careless boots. By now, all squads had reached their objectives and now advanced. For once, the Space Wolves and Iron Hands didn't kill civilians and _actually_ followed their strike leader's orders. Not always did they do this, even back home during the Heresy... or rather, the Great Crusade before it. The Heresy wasn't known to most Astartes at the time. Some of them had been en-route to Istvaan, others not so much. Some had even fought during some of the hardest engagements of the war against Horus.

As they cleared the Admin center, the smell of blood, gunpowder, and smoke became greatly concentrated in the vicinity. He noticed the Bloodclaws were grinning wickedly at the carnage they had wrought against the heretics... that and the rebels' own stupidity. It was stupidity in a sense... but also a strange form of justice. Some merely threw down their weapons and gave up. Others died fighting for a brief moment during the confusion with precise shots.

Eventually, Iulius reached the actual command center after wading through the dead, dying, and orphaned. Two men were in there. Both ashen pale. The first staring outside, the other cradling back and forth-crying like a child. A third sat in a chair with his brains blown out and a Magnum pistol laying on the floor next to him. He recognized the corpse: Jason Rourke, the last remaining commander of this renegade faction. Most of his lieutenants must've been killed. One of the two, Karl Rodriguez (Iulius remembered from certain footage obtained from several victim merchant and passenger ships he had seen), stood with his gun held at the ground, his eyes staring at the carnage that just happened. Not all defenses went to plan. It had all gone to shit at the drop of a hat. All on his watch. He had just seen his glorious last stand turn into a shit-show of stupidity and madness. Iulius almost pitied the poor whoreson. The other man, nothing more than someone of no importance, kept crying for 'mi bebe'. Either his child or a lover. He didn't know and he didn't care. Space Marines could never love as a human would for a wife or lover, something enviable... or not. It depended on one's perspective and the occasion. He cared only for friends, brothers, comrades, civilians, and fathers: both Gene-Seed and the Emperor Himself.

His eyes were drawn to a holographic screen that showed camera feed leading to here. The man rocking back and forth and Rodriguez must've seen some-"

"Damn it... should've had someone clear the hangar bay first before this whole damn thing." He muttered to himself, eyeing the sole Thunderhawk in the hangar bay. More would follow, surely. This one was just for the prisoners to be gained. The plan had called for the hangar bays to be opened thanks to the Iron Priest back onboard the _Terran Honor_ , whom would hack into the space station with no need of physical presence on the station. Then, he would block all access to the station's systems from the rebels and open the hangar bay doors while ensuring that the generator would not self-destruct. During this: all four squads would arrive at the rendezvous point (or rather four of them. They were 'objectives' really). Then, once all squads were in position: they'd attack on four fronts, overwhelming the rebels with brute force until the rebels either surrendered or died. Then again, Space Marines could make mistakes. Horrible ones. Rebels fleeing to the hangar bay and staying there were indeed theorized, but it was hoped that they would run to Astartes killzones with the fleeing rebels captured or dead. Instead... this. Dammit, he was going to be censured for it. Might as well request the Iron Priest board and take anything from the station's databanks. Anything that could help.

"Karl Rodriguez, I presume." Iulius said to him, towering over the mortal man. The man simply stared at him, his ghostly face nodding. He raised his gun to his mouth, but didn't fire when Iulius crushed the man's hand with a quick catch and a simple squeeze. The hand became crushed along with the gun when it dropped to the floor. It didn't go off, thankfully. Rodriguez screamed, clutching his hand. The other man kept rocking back and forth. Poor bastard. Iulius handed him over to a member of his squad for escort back to the _Terran Honor_.

" _Terran Honor,_ Primaris:" Iulius began. "Station secure. I say again: Station secure. Send in the Iron Priest to download any and all-" Immediately, the screens from where he was at started to change subtly in color... data flowing across it. Never mind that then. A voice interrupted him, a Fenrisian-accented-deeper-than-a-man's Astartes voice.

 _"Primaris, Mimir: No need, Ultramarine. I'm uploading it to my personal databanks for analysis."_ The Iron Priest announced, his Fenrisian accent blending with a mechanical tone.

 _"Primaris, Leonidas,"_ His superior announced in his archaic Olympian accent. " _Great work. Have the prisoners and civilians be sent back aboard. We will commence standard clean-up operations and make sure you have Cicero be the one to spray-paint the Aquila this time."_ Leonidas's grin was heard.

"Aye, sir. Will do. Primaris. Out." Iulius nodded, looking around and started giving the orders. He then turned towards the technician that still rocked back and forth.

"One-Eye" He called in a low tone that ensured none of the children were startled as they were led away to their fate. Bragi One-Eye made a swift walk to his position and looked at the rocking technician. His one good eye looking at the man with no more pity than for a wounded animal. He looked at Iulius, whom nodded. Bragi nodded back and dragged the mentally ill rebel to his feet, guided him to a wall after all of the civilians were out and showed him the Emperor's Mercy. When it was done, the body would be left on the floor.

Once the martial operation and evacuation of civilians and prisoners was done, servitors would arrive to dispose of the bodies and pick up any stray boltgun casings on the floor or elsewhere. Trooper Cicero was left grumbling as he spray-painted a golden aquila over the now-missing (and disposed of) corpse of the technician, the gold paint would then mix with the congealed blood long after the station was abandoned with no discovery being made until a rogue salvage crew would attempt to make it their home and discover to its horror what looked like a massacre with that golden aquila spread from one section of the bulkhead to another in the former admin center. By then, it would be at least four years before the beginning of the Human-Covenant War. More rebel and xenos stations would be found in a similar manner.


	17. Imp Diversionary Assault (Reupdated)

Chapter 17

 _(A/N: My apologies to everyone here. I've been a bit busy these past few months as I am essential personnel in my country. However, I am sad to announce that another reason why I am late in posting this is because my paternal grandfather passed away on St. Patrick's Day and we cremated him last Thursday and will not be interred until the last case of COVID-19 in the US is over... probably. He was 91 years old. He is survived by my grandmother, my father, my aunt, my uncle, my two little brothers, not to mention numerous cousins and a family line involving his half-niece as my great-grandfather had another wife before my own great-grandmother. He was a former US Navy sailor for three years and then worked as a plant worker for General Motors._

 _We are sad at his passing and hope that he is in a better place. Nevertheless, I have been working on this story and other projects, not to mention work. I plan on adding more to this chapter later.)_

 _2518_

 _Epsilon Eridanus II_

 _Epsilon Eridani System_

 _Outer Colonies_

 _United Earth Government Space_

It had been nearly a year since Michael had been kidnapped. By whom and for what- neither of them knew. But, one thing was sure: the fuckers who did it would pay for it in _blood_.

The night was dark on the western hemisphere of Eridanus II. The stars were out and the moons gave off their glow. Not exactly an ideal time to pull off a raid, but then again: bad things happened at night, didn't they? Both his father and he had been a part of those bad things... usually to bad people. Occasionally, both of them (at separate times and places) got into bar fights with good people as well under the influence of alcohol. It was the nature of Marines and Spacers. Tonight? In this day and age and with their current predicament? Not so much. Tonight was a night when they would unleash the primal savagery that humanity had mostly forgotten. A rage that was known intimately by a nearly-extinguished race indigenous to North America. More accurately: to one surviving tribe. A tribe they were banished from for reasons too stupid and outdated to even remotely understand.

The father-and-son team sat in an alleyway across from each other in a bad part of town. Far away from the nice part of the city. Can't have raids near nice neighborhoods now, can they? Chris Soaring Hawk took a bite of some dip and started chewing. He took a big sigh. The last time he had been here was a bit before Michael arrived. He smiled, shaking his head. He missed him. Trouble? More so than most. But, his wife had loved him like the son she never got the chance to bear. And so: both he and his father took him in as well, but decided to seek the help of the medicine woman some time afterwards, keep tradition as best as they could.

"Remember when Mike was a year old and he could already start talking like a kid about seven or eight years older than his age?" His father, Jacob, said quietly across the alleyway from him in their clan's guttural tongue... or rather: the _old_ tribe's tongue. Back when there had been a tribe with more than one clan. Almost all of them were wiped out by the US cavalry, save one guy whom got banished. He later reformed the old tribe after taking in a wife from another tribe and repopulated it. As for having additional clans? No dice.

The former Marine smirked back at his near elderly-father. "Yeah, freaked Maria out for awhile." He said in a hushed tone. Jacob chuckled back. "I still remember that one time a tractor that you were lifting on a jack was about to tip over and the kid-bless his little heart- stopped the damn thing with his bare hands like God-damn Superman." Jacob told his father. Chris chuckled. He then stopped smiling, remembering something.

In the dim light, he could see the camouflaged paint his father wore under the hood. Both of them had it as they pretended to be hobos in the bad part of town. Had it been in a much nicer neighborhood, the local cops would've pulled over and probably asked them what the hell they were doing.

"Remember what we talked about on the way over here? What one of my suspicions was?" Chris asked, leaning forward. Jacob sighed. "I remember telling you to shut the fuck up about it. We can't have them on our tail," He said, referring to his old 'employers'.

"What if we're going after the wrong guys? What if it's not the-" Chris paused to find the right word, in case they were being watched or bugged. "'Traitors', like we thought it was?" His father asked. The son scoffed.

"Why the fuck would _they_ take kids? Doesn't make no damn sense, Innies used kids as human shields and bombs back in your day too." Jacob told his father flatly. "Shit goes before my time too." His father answered, shrugging. "Remember reading about the Spartans?" Chris asked. Jacob scoffed in response."I remember reading they and the Athenians fought each other with a plague going on, and then both of them got conquered by the Macedonians." Jacob answered, flatly.

"My point is: what if... we've been thinking about this the wrong way?" Chris asked. His son gave him an incredulous look. "We came all this way for nothing, then?" Jacob angrily answered, while trying not to raise his voice. "We've planned this for months on the way here and this planet's our first god-damned lead to find the kid." Jacob asked. "You talked me into this, now you want to back out? Are you fucking serious?" The son angrily scoffed.

The old warrior sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, no, what I mean is-" He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what to think now. This was the first planet I thought to look, given how we both came here at one point or a-" The father spoke while turning his head. He paused as he looked up at the roof, for some reason. Later, he would say he didn't know why he did so. He squinted, making his son looked at the direction he looked at: the building right across the street from the target complex. More accurately: the roof of said complex.

They saw nothing at first. Then, a faint outline began to emerge, just the faintest, really. Something big and bulky. Chris blinked. Just like that-it was gone. Both stared, blinkingly at the spot and then turned back to each other.

"How much of that old Irish whiskey did we drink before this? I think it's starting to affect me now." Jacob asked, rubbing his head. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, after all.

XXX

Aslan Shah smiled underneath his hood as he gazed at the two former Marines hiding in an alleyway from a building across the street, a simple thought suggestion to make it look natural, a brief glimpse of one of the Custodes with him. More accurately, a member of his Companions and a crisis was averted... for the moment. Part of his concentration now was on maintaining the illusion that nothing awaited the sentries walking around on the roof as music blared in the down-trodden apartment in front of the gathered strike force.

 _+++My Emperor+++_ A voice deep and gravelly said in his mind as a warrior stepped next to him. He turned, seeing one of his Companions, Octavian, look at him with his helm covered in dark navy blue as well as the rest of the strike unit. All ranks and insignias had been taken off for this mission. Besides, they were all Astartes or the equivalent thereof. +++The men are ready.+++ Octavian reported. He turned around to regard his strike force: half a squad of Raven Guard with at the very least four of his companions. All armed with boltguns, flash bangs, and frag grenades. The mission was to be a simple one... and yet: not so.

 _+++Octavian: our task begins on my mark. Code-word is 'Lucy'.+++_ The Emperor telepathically said, remembering an incident he had witnessed while on business in the now-defunct, but then-chaotic nation, of Somalia on Earth in the late 20th century. He had been doing some business there for recruiting purposes. Sometimes the worst of places, produce not just the worst of men, but also the best of them.

The squad gathered at the edge of the roof, the target building across from them only a mere jump away. Elsewhere, there were agents under his employment about to make a raid. ONI agents on this planet were redirected elsewhere or engaged in other matters off-world. Some had disappeared. Local law enforcement had been told to turn a blind eye under false pretenses (He had pretended to be an ONI agent).

They stood in a single file row, their feet spread apart for the jump, their armor painted a dark navy blue and their heads now covered in their traditional and renowned helms. The Emperor put his own helmet on, a bland tactical mask with a visor and a metal laurel.

 _+++All units within range of this message: Lucy. I say again: Lucy+++_ The Emperor telepathically announced. Then, they all jumped,lifting into the air. At that moment, in power stations supplying electricity to that area of the city, the power went out thanks to an EMP device planted there by an agent. Entire blocks went out of power for the whole night, save the medical clinics he had graciously donated generators too along with convenience and grocery stores. All light went out in an entire district. It was enough for this operation.

There would be traffic accidents, crimes, and what-else. Being what he was, and having garnered more than enough compensation, he was prepared to pay the financial cost to partially alleviate grieving and wounded families. He was not perfect, but then again: he was only a mere man that somehow was powerful enough to be considered a sort-of 'God'. As their metal boots came closer to the roof, with the guards looking up at the shadows. A loud cry came across the Vox channel that he and his squad shared.

 _"AVE IMPERATOR!"_ A Custodes, definitely Claudius- that funny, but eager fellow. His squadmates echoed his cry. He himself cried out something similar, but reflected for what he fought for. _"AVE IMPERIUM HOMINIS!"_ His boots now landed on the concrete along with his brethren, the structure stable enough to hold them all. He raised his bolt pistol to a surprised Insurrectionist, holding an MA5B rifle, probably stolen from a UNSC armory.

"My apologies for this," He solemnly spoke, executing the man afterwards with a bark from his bolt pistol. The man fell back to the ground without a head. By now, the entire neighborhood would be awake at this. He knew that similar strikes were happening at suspected or known Insurrectionist safe houses.

While the current target building was indeed criminal in nature, it was also, according to trusted sources, also a safe-house for Insurrectionist sympathizers. Most likely, the foster family for his son would have stormed the place guns blazing only to be either captured and tortured or to just be executed. Something he couldn't quite allow.

Around him, his warriors moved swiftly. The Raven Guard line troopers took aim before their lesser opponents could open fire and took them down. His loyal Custodes formed a ring around him with their Guardian spears, striking those that would aim at their liege with a charge and a slash that looked more like a faint blur to the defenders.

The Raven Guard fire-team, a half-squad of five Space Marines from the Stranded Raven Guard Contingent, formerly of the 122nd Shadow Company, moved ahead, their armored bodies melting into the shadows while he sensed the neighbors in adjacent buildings hearing the sounds of bolter-fire and possibly seeing the flashes of it as well. Not to mention the screaming rebels. He closed his eyes to concentrate for a brief moment, a single thought- an idea-concept coming to mind. Then, his eyes briefly flashed gold. He nodded, satisfied.

 _"Milord,"_ The vox channel that the strike force used crackled in his ears. _"Shadow-Primaris: The rooftop is secure. Break. We have left two survivors for interrogation, just in case. Inquisitive: What is to be done with them? Over."_ Sergeant Kage's raspy voice inquired. He had been grazed in the throat some years before Horus's rebellion by an Ork round. Not badly enough to warrant a bionic prosthetic or extensive regeneration, but enough for the Sergeant's voice to change from deep to its current status.

 _+++Leave them be, but gather them into one place. The same goes for whomever we keep alive+++_ The Emperor thought to his subordinate. He then smiled as his retinue and himself walked towards the entrance to the floor below them. _+++I must say, Sergeant: Corvax had taught you well. A damnable shame that he sent you and others such as yourself away simply because you were Terran.+++_ The Emperor complimented. A silence came onto the vox. He sensed a brief period of shame from the Sergeant. He frowned, remembering that the Raven Guard's Terran veterans had been sent away because they were formerly slave-masters and barbaric savages-elements of humanity that Corvax didn't want as his own adopted Homeworld of Deliverance and its neighboring planet of Kiavahr had been owned by Techno-Guild slavemasters. Obviously, the Primarch of the Raven Guard hadn't wanted that kind of reminder of his past under his command. So, he practically exiled or sent them on suicide missions. "Thank you, milord." Kage said with a tinge of awe.

 _+++You are welcome, Sergeant.+++_ The Emperor telepathically responded back before returning to work. _+++Proceed as planned+++_  
 _"As you will it, milord."_ Kage affirmed with a smile in his voice. Downstairs, he could sense a rising panic from rebels and those close to them. He shook his head. On the one hand, they offered their families protection. On the other hand, they painted their families as targets.

 _+++Custodes: prepare for teleportation. Stand close to me.+++_ The Emperor ordered. _+++Aye, my liege+++_ They responded, standing in a close pentagon formation. A brief flash and they appeared on the street outside of the building's front entrance. As planned, three of the Custodes separated from them with two behind and in front of his person. The Emperor smiled, noting that to the average outsider, it would look like some strange rave thanks to the illusion he had conjured. He may be a fragment with a fragment's power, but it was nevertheless impressive, even to himself. However, trivial, it may be.

The Emperor awaited the arrival of the fleeing rebels and their supporters outside of the entrance, sensing them move through the halls as their brothers and sisters above were slaughtered in the shadows by bolter-fire and blade, the bark of the rounds scaring and slaying all it came across. Lights flashed from the windows, showing outlines of bulky armored giants and their inferior opponents. He sensed several aiming down at him from the window above. Both of his remaining Custodes stood by, ready to deflect the bullets from their Emperor be it in front or in the back. He took aim and fired, each round having its aim adjust within seconds of each shot as perfectly as possible while rounds bounced off of either his armor or were deflected by Guardian spear-blades. The other bodyguards would deal with those that came out the back or side entrances while the Raven Guard would deal with those above, working their way down: taking prisoners or none. Those that fled would be either apprehended or slain by the Custodes and the Emperor himself.

Every time he slightest sense that a trigger was about to be pulled, he would fire at its source, either a window up a story or so or on the street level with the occasional reload. Eventually, cries of 'Enough' 'We Surrender' rang out after a full four minutes of Imperial slaughter occurred, the bolter-fires' ghosts now being seen on the very street level, near the lobby, as he was right. The last shot had occurred near the elevators and stairways leading up. So far, no one had come out with their hands up at the entrance. He had sensed that civilians had come out, rebel supporters that now wanted nothing more than to live. Unfortunately for them, some would face justice. He sensed the fear, the hidden anger, the dying strength of misguided rebels that fought for an ideal that would unfortunately fail.

 _+++Have the wounded and the prisoners be gathered onto the roof. Leave the dead for our men in the planetary law enforcement.+++_ The Emperor ordered, not having had to move even a mere step forward during his turkey shoot on the ground. He had counted only fifty rounds to be used. All anyone would see outside was a teenger and his friends shooting paintball guns.

 _"GODDAMN KIDS!"_ An old man shouted from an open window behind him in an apartment building that wasn't so downtrodden. _"Quit scaring half the damn 'hood to death! Made us think the spooks were after you!"_ The aging senior scolded with a raised fist and a raspy voice. The Emperor rolled his eyes and started to respond.

" _Lo siento, abuelo!_ Won't happen again!" He called out in a mid-twenties-sounding Terran-Spanish accent. The old man shut the window. Just then, he heard a few of his Companions snicker on the Vox channel. He smiled to himself. A little humor never hurt anyone. He then gestured for his Custodes to walk with him. The party entered the building as the last of the survivors were ushered up the stairs. His helm's night vision sensors showed the world in a greenish-aura. Bodies were against the walls or on the floor. Bolter cases had been picked up and properly put away to hide the evidence. Blood covered the holed halls, doors, and pooled on the floor, like a horror house in the 20th Century. Bodies were split in two or lost limbs that looked like hand grenades went off in their grasp... or not (counting the feet). Heads were off as well while he walked up the stairs. As he went up the stairwell, he noted the pile of no less than thirteen bodies on the floor with five or six more leaning forward without heads and/or chests. He sighed. Perhaps, doing this was a bad idea. Then again, any information on other rebel movements would benefit himself and ONI in the long run, perhaps even so far as to take care of one Colonel Robert Watts, a turncoat that was formerly a UNSC Marine.

He scoffed at the thought. He had some information on what happened there to that particular hot topic. Sources varied, but he deduced he was either bought off or was tired of fighting a seemingly endless and losing war against Insurrectionists and decided to join the Underdog. Had he known what was _really_ going on, he would've valued himself and his men's lives by staying on Earth's good graces.

If he was right, and he almost always as, the Insurrectionists would probably be eradicated within four or five years as long as raids like this, combined with some discreet 'donations' to ONI occurred. If new ones didn't spring up during the upcoming war with the alien oligarchical religious confederation outside of human/ Imperial space, that is. He was looking forward to it, actually. He had never encountered their particular like, before. If he did, he didn't remember (he was a fragment after all). Then again, it almost reminded him of Lorgar.

His shoulders slumped as he glanced at the carnage around him. He had thought of his rebel sons often. Not as seldom as he wanted to, but still. Lorgar, if he was thinking right, must have been the first. Monarchia was a dead give-away. Had Lorgar perhaps been more of Horus's caliber, it would have been Lorgar directly leading and not _in_ directly. Then again, he suspected the true cause may have been from the Word Bearers rank-and-file in the first place. The old religion of Colchis had bore strange and disturbing similarities to so many cults he had vanquished over the years. And now: that cult had spread like a plague and given birth to a rebellion, which split his former Imperium back home, and shattered the semblance of his dream into possibly ungatherable pieces. What a mess.

 _'At the very least, I am gathering shards here.'_ The one-time Master of Mankind encouraged himself, while he stepped in blood. He heard the wails of lovers and siblings mourning the dead and the wounded calling for aid. He glanced briefly at levels that were riddled with holes, slash marks, shattered glass, broken and destroyed weapons, and corpses. The smell of death hung in the air as did the sense of it. He never really did like that smell... but he had to confess he did on more than one occasion, which wasn't that many. Monarchia definitely hadn't been one. Or any city he had atomically bombed during the Unification Wars. So much needless death and destruction, because no one saw the bigger picture.

While he could have easily teleported to the roof, he felt it enjoyable sometimes to walk... but also much better to survey the damage he had caused to remind himself of the cost and the tragedy that war often brought. . Doubtless, similar situations were happening throughout the city and across this world. It had been a massive operation on a planetary scale with pin point accuracy. Rebel leaders and sympathizers captured or eliminated. Lives possibly saved or not. Data left behind for ONI agents, the battlefields left in place to remind those of what happened and as a warning to those that resisted. It almost made him feel like he was in the Unification Wars back on Terra. Space, he somewhat missed those days. Much simpler with one world than trying to liberate a million or so more. Then again, he had planned on reuniting humanity.

The Emperor arrived on the roof, the Raven Guard and three Custodes standing watch over the huddled and sobbing prisoners. On the vox channel that he shared with the many squad leaders across the planet: reports came in. All of the operations were successful. All known sites were destroyed. Enemy casualties were possibly below two-or-two-and-a-half-thousand by his reckoning. Bombs properly disposed of, the means of making them vanished into the flames, leaders taken captive or dead, rebel spirits crushed. He sighed, wondering if this was a portent of things to come in the near future. For there was only war, that way, he knew. He nodded satisfied as the combined group of no-less than fifty-five captives looked at their wardens in fear or bruised anger. The fearful ones were the few children and noncombatant women... or the scared men and women that fought but surrendered.

"This is all of them, sire." Sergeant Kage reported, his beak-like helm looking at his liege for guidance.

 _+++This will do+++_ The Emperor declared, nodding. He then connected with the _Bucephalus_ in orbit. The cryo pods would be ready for them after initial interrogation. The Shaw-Fujikawa Drive would be prepped to jump once they exited the Orbital Elevator and all teams with their captives were gone. He closed his eyes, concentrating. Then, he opened them. The captives had briefly cried out and then disappeared in a flash of light along with the Raven Guard. He wouldn't leave. Not just yet. He had unfinished business.

 _+++If I may ask, my Emperor: are we going to meet them?+++_ Octavian asked, his helm turning towards his liege. His own helm nodded with not a word spoken. Then, another flash and they appeared right in the middle of a living room with a startled pair of Indiginous father-and-son in their wife-beaters and shorts drinking beer and having fried chicken. Both stared at the sight in awe and shock, the air having been blown their hair and the guns they had near them suddenly vanished from their sight. He smiled at them beneath his helm.

"Ah," He began, grinning under his helm. "Perhaps I should've went to the front door first."

The father-and-son pair sat in their chairs, blinking in confusion with pieces of fried chicken, likely from that mediocre fast food place over on Ninth Street, a few blocks away. First the son, the younger of the two with his short-cropped black hair and brown eyes, gulped his food down and asked.

"Can we help you?" Jacob Soaring Hawk asked, weirded out.

"Actually, I kind of helped _you_ earlier." The Emperor said, shrugging. "Don't worry about the men with me, just some friends I have." He added, referring to his Custodes. He could feel his Companions' pride beaming at this. "My name, currently," He said, reaching for his helm and taking it off after a hiss from the seal. "-is Aslan Shah. And I believe I owe you four things." He said, raising four fingers. " A thanks, an apology, an explanation, and an offer." The Emperor said.

"First, my apologies." Shah said, placing a hand on his armored chest. "I am dreadfully sorry for interrupting your meal, I had to do some business first. Namely, that I had to deter you from a potentially disastrous raid some thirty-minutes before." The man known as Shah explained, reminding them. Jacob Soaring Hawk blinked, dropping his leg.

"Wait a minute," The former UNSC Marine said, blinking as he wondered. His face scrunched into a confused frown. "No," Shah reassured, smiling a small smile. "You weren't going insane. I was making sure neither of you were going to be captured or worse. Seeing as how you are, ah-" He paused and sighed. This was going to be a tough one. He hadn't done something like this before. And if he did, he couldn't recall before the Unification Wars- the first time. As he spoke, his Companions stood motionless like statues, ready to defend their Emperor at a moment's notice.

"Wait... as in that Innie place we were going to raid?" Christopher asked, jerking his thumb the opposite direction of the building.

"Actually, I had an eye on that building for some time... for raiding purposes, you understand. I have a vested interest in making sure certain persons," The Emperor said, hinting at the occupants of the now-ruined apartment complex. "-wouldn't pull off any attack. I've known about the Innie presence here on Eridanus, even after the battle here some years ago." He sniffed. "I'm something of a hunter myself, actually." Shah explained. "My Companions here are a small part of it,"

The father-and-son looked at the entourage, then at each other, then back to the Imperial retinue. The light of the dingy apartment gave off a bright yellow glow on all save the darkened corners of the living room, the entranceway to the front door, and the twin bedrooms opposite of each other.

"So, you were going to raid that place..." The father said. "And you didn't want us in the crossfire." The son answered for him. The Emperor shrugged. "That," He admitted and began his confession. "That, and I have something to atone for, hence the thanks."

"Thanks? What for?" Jacob asked, scoffing. Then, he stopped and looked at Shah's face. He could see _it_ now. Shah smiled. "I must thank you for watching over my son," The Emperor began. Jacob blinked, his arms dropped to the floor. His own son stared at the man.

"What?" Christopher asked, his face growing red. "You mean to tell me that _my_ kid was _yours_?" The man said, starting to rise.

+++Milord+++ Octavian warned, his head slightly shifted. +++It is fine, Octavian+++ The Emperor replied back.

"You found him in a pod marked 'II', did you not? Some strange form of it that you hadn't seen before?" The Emperor asked, reminding him. "Fell from the sky, you waited until it was cool to see what it was inside', he said, remembering the common tales that he had heard. "He grows faster than a normal child? Heals faster? Smarter than children his age? Able to lift things mere men can not? Has a tendency for martial prowess?" The Emperor said, labeling the usual characteristics of the upbringing.

The two men looked at him, realization finally dawning. _"Oh my God," J_ acob said in awe, slumping back into his chair. 'I've been called worse' Shah wanted to say, but didn't voice it. "You watched over him like a hawk as one of your own. For that, I thank you." He said, smiling as he bowed.

"How'd you lose Mike?" Jacob paused and frowned. "Or did you have another name for him?" He asked. The Emperor smiled. "No, no. The name he was given is fine. All my sons have or-" He paused and then continued. "- _have had_ unusual names." He said, remembering Sanguinius and Ferrus Manus. So many lost and dead.

"So, there was more than just Mike?" Christopher asked, leaning forward. The Emperor nodded. "Most certainly," The immortal Master of Mankind answered, nodding. "Wait, did you take Mike? Replace him with that... thing?" Jacob asked, leaning forward, giving a suspicious eye. Shah frowned and shook his head. "No. If I knew he was among you, I would have gone myself and asked for him back. I would have even let him decide for a time and ask him again when he grew to manhood and had a career." The Emperor answered honestly.

"Just what are you exactly?" Christopher asked. "I'm many things, actually." The Emperor happily and modestly said. "I've had a fair share of intellectual studies such as science, had my hands at helping in politics and law enforcement, consulted on military matters, helped root out corruption, construction work as well, the works." The Emperor said. "To name a few. But, I'm actually-" he said, beginning his long explanation with an occasional show of proof. Both men stared at the actual father of their adopted son.

"-which leads me to the offer:" The Emperor said. "Will you help me find our lost son and discover why he was taken? In exchange for your own consulting work?" The Emperor asked. The answer satisfied him.

The next morning, the planetary media would report that a massive string of raids were conducted on Insurrectionist enclaves throughout the planet. ONI, of course, would deny, but would check if someone in their section did. A few had their suspicions, while the crackpots outside partially guessed at what happened and partially spout their usual nonsense out of their ass. The truth would be revealed to the Office of Naval Intelligence within the next two years.

 _(A/N: 'Lucy' was a code-word used for the assault to begin during Operation Ranger. More specifically, during the Battle of Mogadishu in the very early 90s'. Many of you may remember Black Hawk Down, which is the movie based on those events, but also somewhat inaccurate in some respects. Still: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Happy Easter/ Passover! Shalom!)_


	18. Chapter 18: First Mission

Chapter 18

 _(A/N: Sorry about the long wait, I've been pretty busy with work)_

2519

 _Reach_

 _Epsilon Ipsi_

 _Outer Colonies_

 _UEG Space_

The mess hall wasn't exactly busy as it was closed off only for the following personnel: the stranger- Aslan Shah, Dr. Halsey, Lieutenant Hayes, MCPO Sheng and MCPO Mendez, Doctors Watson and Stone, and none else. The cooks had prepared meals for everyone, save the guards. Privately, Shah had paid the meals for the following week for every last inhabitant of the installation. He had the funds. Not all the time, but still. He'd do what he can.

"A little _too_ generous, don't you think?" Halsey asked as they ate. The Emperor looked up before eating a bite of scalloped potatoes. "Paying for all of our meals?" She asked. The Emperor shrugged. "I've made a lot of wise financial decisions over the years. I think I can afford it." He then shrugged. "Not all the time, mind you." The Emperor warned. He then turned to Sheng. "And no, Mr. Sheng: I won't be paying those alimonies to that ex-wife of yours. You're on your own there," He had said as a sort of joke. Everyone at the table laughed a little, but Sheng's face stared at the Emperor both blinking and pale. The Emperor tilted his head and his own eyes widened, realizing his mistake. _'Ah'_ he wondered. 'Probably should quit making those kinds of jokes some time soon. I might just get shot for it someday.' He thought. Then he remembered he was the once-and-future Emperor. Or a fragment at least. It would take a lot of shit just to kill him. And a lot more to wipe himself from existence, much less the damnable four bastard non-entities in the Warp.

He cleared his throat. "Moving on," he said, changing the subject. "You mentioned earlier that he faced a Guta, correct?" The Emperor asked Halsey. The doctor nodded after slurping some chicken noodle soup. "Yes, that would be correct." She affirmed.

"One of the areas that they live in is south east some-ways, two-hundred and fourteen kilometers to be exact." Sheng said as Mendez nodded. The Emperor frowned. "Guta don't normally travel _that_ far on their own. Usually they have families with them or their mate." he said, recanting from memory. "Unless I'm starting to go senile," he joked a little. There were a few chuckles around the table. "No," Halsey said, thinking. "There was some flooding in that area," She announced and suggested "Might have lost its family and moved on."

The Emperor pursed his lips as he thought. "Dr. Halsey," He started to ask her. "Can you ask your-"

"I am right here, Mr. Shah." Deja announced, producing from a holotank near the room. He nodded. "Excellent," He said, remembering how he spoke to the Primarchs and his confidants of 'Abominable Intelligence' and the 'Iron Men'. Those wars, he had told others, were fierce. Perhaps, they even rivalled Horus's rebellion. "Deja," he began to ask the AI. "Were there any peculiar phenomena during the floods of the area south-east of here?" He tilted his head, making his voice loud and clear. "Something along the lines of say- 'strange-colored storms in say 'purple' or 'sickening green'?" He asked the AI, leaning towards the AI.

"In the area known as Siemobor District, then the answer is yes. Approximately five weeks ago, during the flooding of Siemobor District, there were strange reports to local law enforcement from farmers of 'eldritch-looking storms in the area.'" She said, showing the reports and the area, no bigger then two hundred klicks across and forty-seven klicks long.

"I'm surprised some farmers knew that particular word. Must've been a Lovecraftian reader or several among them." The Emperor commented. "What about missing persons reports in that area?" He inquired, tilting his head. Halsey looked at Shah and then at Hayes whom just merely shrugged, not wanting a repeat of a certain incident.

"There are over eighty-seven Missing Persons Reports in that area along with thirty-four BOLOs of known and suspected Insurrectionist sympathizers. There are also twenty-nine Missing in Action reports from Siemobar District Police Department." The Emperor sighed, rubbing his face as Deja spoke. "Right under all our noses," He breathed, pinching his own. He then issued a series of orders as everyone in the mess hall watched, looking at him. It started with incredulity... then, it turned to fear as they started to catch on to something, a mere grasping of what the Emperor was thinking. Halsey's eyes widened as the gravity of it all came down, a bit before anyone else.

"Look up reports of 'enormous crocodiles'. I'm talking ones the size of houses, if not more than that size. They should be having jaws with row-upon-row of serrated teeth. Usually around areas with lakes." he said. "Piles of remains also- _big ones_. Look for the near-extinction of game in the area as well, including guta." The Emperor said. Deja found the reports. He nodded after he inspected the reports. He sighed as everyone looked at the man.

"Unfortunately, I will have to explain what I mean when I say this after lunch to spare your stomachs," He told everyone, sitting back down. "You have a Crotalid infestation." He announced. "And I thought just myself and those loyal to me (including Michael) were the only things that I knew were from back whence we came." He commented with a sour, dry note.  
XXX

"What are 'Crotalids'?" Halsey asked the Emperor as they were in her lab. She had been studying images of Michael's organs before the Emperor's arrival. It was also where, hours earlier that same day, she had ordered Michael was to be vivisected with two organs taken out of him. However, Shah's arrival had changed her mind and (slightly) her disposition.

He started to write something on a holo-screen, listing characteristics. Possibly for her to remember... no- definitely. "A strange fauna. The location of that race's home world, I never knew. They are somewhat similar to their Terran cousins (and furthermore their Colonial descendants that got exported to the colonies), with many exceptions." The Emperor lectured. "First of all, they're big as a two-story house, if not slightly less than half the size of an apartment building in some cases. He continued. He drew her a picture on another holo-screen.

"They're semi-aquatic, of course." he told her, while drawing. "Their jaws, as I mentioned earlier to Deja', are very large and can eat a man whole, tearing him to pieces as their teeth are in serrated rows. Their brains are strangely small, but they are cunning. Not like sapient races, thankfully." He said and then stopped drawing. "They have a curious tendency, however." He then sat down on the desk, keeping in mind to clean it. "They keep migrating from whatever world they nest on, after say- seventy Earth years, and then leave. Not by hitching on a spaceship, as great and fantastic as that would be." he said, raising his eyebrows and briefly smiling while he explained. He gritted his teeth. "They use this..." he shrugged. "Well, in my time: we call it 'The Warp'. It's pretty much 'Slip-space'. Except the Warp/Slip-space is sort of-" He started to say. "Well, it's complicated to explain to someone of your era." He tried to explain.

"You're saying that Slip space is like... what- a 'sea'" Halsey asked incredulously as she crossed her arms. Her head tipped forward while she spoke.

"Have you ever been in a warp storm?" Shah retorted, turning to her. He scoffed. "All travel outside of a system, much less a planet in that time period is dangerous. You'd be lucky if you managed to get in (or out) just fine or without so much as a scratch or a dent in your ship's hull. The warp is a sort of 'reflection' (somewhat) of our material world, hence another term for it being 'Empyrean/Immaterium). In my day, it was a sort of 'sea' for which all ships capable of traveling it had to pass through to get to other systems. In my day, it was plenty dangerous. I developed a sort of 'psychic beacon'-" Halsey tilted her head in disbelief. He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know how it sounds." He sighed, his eyes glowing. "The Astronomican, essentially, serves as a sort of 'lighthouse'. I created it so that ships in my empire could travel to and fro without any disturbance. The problem, back then, was that it could only go so far. I planned on having someone take up the position as serving as a sort of-" he paused. "Well, guide/power source for it." He admitted. Halsey blinked. "Well," Shah shrugged. "One can get tired of being the sole source of navigational safety in the galaxy, you know?" He confessed. "Anyway- that plan didn't work (More on that later). It's still there, the Astronomican only... well.." He shrugged. "Well, it's complicated." he admitted.

"Back to the topic at hand," He said, returning to his lecture and recapping what he had said earlier. "Crotalids have this curious ability wherein that they somehow travel from one world to another, or more accurately: one _system_ to another within a ten light-year radius with some kind of warp travel." He explained. Halsey blinked. "I find that hard to believe. That's impossible unless someone took them from-"

"That's the thing: they're not smart enough to do it. I've checked, my own Imperial scientists have checked, the scientists of the Martian Mechanicum have checked-" "'Martian Mechanicum,'?" Halsey asked. The Emperor sighed. "I'll explain that another time." He deflected the question, bearing in mind to have a Mechanicus Magos get sent down here as a surprise for her. "Nevertheless: we've studied and tested them for centuries: nothing." He told her. "But I have a theory:" he said." They prefer worlds that have prey on them, doesn't matter what habitat or whatever the atmosphere is: they'll take it. Sometimes it's a miss. I've heard and seen that they live on such a world for about seventy years, eating all the prey it can, wiping it out (we've lost a few colonies that way, sadly. Had to send a a few detachments of Space Marines or more). Then, when they can't eat anymore or they don't like that world after seventy years: they leave and go to a new world as far as ten light-years away using the Warp. We don't know how they do it as we've detected no abnormal organs capable of such a thing. But, I think that somehow they are indeed manifested from the Warp in a sense." Shah explained and took a deep breath.

"And now, unfortunately: Reach has such an infestation. Though I don't know how it got there or where they originally came from. We don't even know how many there are.. yet." He told her, aiming a finger at her while spoke. "Can your..." Halsey started to ask. "'Astartes'? My Space Marines?" He asked, with a raised eyebrow and shrugged. "Possible. But, Crotalids are a difficult matter even for them." He then paused as he thought. "Michael has been itching for action, yes?" He asked, thinking. Halsey nodded and then her eyes widened. "A mission?! You want him to hunt those things down?! By himself?!" She asked in exasperation.

"Well, he'll have help, of course." He told her like a father or grandfather encouraging a son to go on a crusade. "And last I checked: you nearly had two of his organs (which I designed) come out when he disobeyed your orders." he reminded her. The doctor blushed at this, while looking away. "True," She admitted, nodding. "So, how do we do this?" She asked. He smiled. "I'm glad you asked."  
XXX

Michael awoke and sat upwards, looking around. He was back in his quarters, the terminal he'd hacked had been replaced along with other 'adjustments' Halsey had made. For starters, the hatch that led to his quarters was now denser than before, perhaps a prototype of metal? He shrugged, sighing as he leaned back as he looked around. He had expected to be vivisected and followed her orders. As he was bound to the agreement he made, he would happily pay for it, even though he did what he felt was right. Those kids needed to know he was there. He wanted to imprint himself. By the time they were adults, it was probably going to be too late. He figured it would take, at the very least, ten years or more of combat operations to perhaps even _gain_ a following by that time.

But, by then, the war with the strange xenos faction would occur (he was sure of it). And what then? There were seventy-five and that rant that Halsey had given him some time ago had shown that it was possible that had(and if) they harvested and reverse-engineered his advanced organs, it would have ensured the salvation of perhaps more than forty-or-so of his comrades. He'd have been a human sacrifice. Or... was slated to be it as a punishment. He sighed. "Everyone gets their lumps," He told himself.

Just then, the door opened. On cue, he stood up at attention, staring straight ahead. Chief Sheng walked in alone. "Trainee-002, you're coming with me. Fallout." He ordered. Michael nodded and fell out, following his instructor. As he passed, he couldn't help but feel something was slightly different in the air... like something charged had happened. Not in his general vicinity, no- but something _odd_ had definitely happened. He had been transported back to his quarters relatively unscathed. Halsey had a change of mind... but _that_ was impossible. He had read the old woman's biography, her thesis, her talks... everything that was available. She wasn't the type to just _change_ her direction. _Something_ happened.

The SPARTAN-II Candidate walked forward, left foot forward, pace steadily behind that of his instructor. They said not a word as they went through the base, the techs, lab assistants, and various MPs giving him strange looks. He could feel their fear and their anxiety. Not a few had ignorant anger and hatred of him. Nevertheless, in the coming war: he'd fight for them regardless.

Michael then noted that they were heading for the briefing room, which was unusual. Upon entering, Halsey stood near a holotable with Mendez with her, the XO essentially of the Spartan II program. He suspected him and his own instructor of being former SPARTAN-Is themselves. The way they acted, their age, and the way they trained him were signs pointing to this.

He then stood in attention and saluted in front of the holotable, a map of some area on Reach. "Trainee-002, reporting in as ordered. Ready for assignment." He said. Mendez saluted back. Halsey walked over to his right side and crossed her arms as her unruly candidate stood at attention.

"Do you know what you did wrong, Michael?" She asked. He immediately answered.

"Aye, ma'am." He told her. She nodded. "Good, don't let it happen again." She responded and walked around. "At ease, trainee." Mendez ordered. Michael did so.

"You intervened because you had reason to believe that fellow SPARTAN candidates were in danger, correct?" The doctor asked, dipping her head. Michael nodded. "Aye, ma'am." "Can you elaborate?" She asked. "Yes, ma'am. I had a vision of a candidate team being in danger from an animal attack. I acted on it by convincing you and my instructor." "-And then proceeded to knock out two Marines, including your assigned guard, and then impersonated an ODST while searching for victims of alleged attack." Halsey continued with slight anger. "And then you killed a guta by yourself, and if my account from White team is right, you slew it by yourself with your own bare hands and your abilities." She finished. "Is that correct, Candidate-002?" She asked. Michael nodded. "Aye, ma'am." He admitted. She was silent for a minute.

He had his speculations which later turned into reality when she spoke again. "Your actions were admirable," She began. "Even though you disobeyed orders." She reminded, intending for it to be harsh. "Our agreement still stands, though you (somewhat) broke it." She informed him. Mendez raised an eyebrow at the candidate. Michael kept his grin hidden under a harsh serious exterior. "Aye, ma'am." He told her with a slight hint of satisfaction that he _wasn't_ going to be vivisected... yet.

"Not only that, but the recent incident revealed something-" She paused. "Concerning," She finsihed. The way she said was as if she was acting. He wondered why. Perhaps a death on a training mission? Have him out of the way and then autopsied? No. Impossible. Something else had occurred, that strange feeling in the air had something to do with it. Something was going on.

He frowned and looked to Mendez and then Halsey. Both of the men responsible for training the SPARTAN-IIs were stone-faced at Halsey's words. She then gestured to the holo-table, its flat surface forming into a map of a district somewhere, most definitely on Reach. An area formed with mountains, numerous lakes, and forests. Farming villages were spotted along with somewhat larger towns, their names appearing above the settlements. The name on the top part of the area read 'Siemobar District'. He looked at her. If he remembered his geography and cartography of Reach, that area was south-east of the Spartan II training base by more than two hundred kilometers. The villages however, showed signs of flooding as they were placed in various valleys.

"The guta that you killed had been tagged some years ago and was supposed to live in the Siemobar District here on Reach." Halsey explained. "There was some flooding during a three-day storm about four weeks ago, a month, essentially." Images showed floods covering crops, villages, the roads completely submerged in water. Villagers were on top of roofs, holding out signs in Cyrillic lettering. Animals either dead in the water or swimming were seen in various video feeds and pictures. "It's not uncommon to happen in that area or on the planet. There were the usual deaths as well as missing persons reports." She informed him. "Then many more disappeared, along with some unusual reports." She said.

"What kind of reports?" He asked, looking at the family on the rooftops in one video feed with various cars floating down a now-giant river. "During the storm, there were reports of unusual weather phenomenon as well as stories of 'gigantic crocodiles'." Halsey stated, showing the reports. Michael raised an eyebrow at this. And then he realized what it was she wanted him to kill. Inwardly, he laughed aloud. "Say no more, I'll kill them." He interrupted her. Halsey tilted her head as did Sheng and Mendez. They stared at him. He rubbed his nose. "How many are we talking?" he asked. He knew crocodiles tended to live near water as they were sub-aquatic. He always did want alligator meat as a kid, having heard stories from his parents and grandfather about it. His answer didn't satisfy him.

"We don't know on the numbers, but we do know they've been responsible for at least: ninety-eight deaths. As to the locations:" Halsey told her. "That's considerably low for a population density in less than fifty-five thousand." Michael commented. "We suspect there may be more," Halsey answered him. "And the local game wardens or animal control can't handle it?"

"Michael," Halsey told him, her hands on the holomap. "These things leave huge piles of remains behind... in their feces." She told him flatly. As if on cue, three images appeared showing crap piles the size of... His eyes widened. "Damn," He commented. Huge piles of animal shit rose above a _two-story_ _house_ next to the flooded remains of said house. There were about four more near them.

"And those were just _human_ deaths. We've had reports from local hunters (those still alive and accounted for) that this new invasive species has been devastating the region. Within a year, there could be either no more humans or local fauna in the area. They could possibly go elsewhere." Halsey said.

"How did they arrive?" Michael asked, wondering if they were the Xenos from his visions. "We don't know. The orbital stations didn't detect any ships doing unauthorized landings, and customs in Reach should've taken them (much less ONI) upon docking." Sheng answered for Halsey. Michael shook his head as he looked at the remain piles. Human skulls and bones were among them, along with those of cows, sheep, and maybe a dog or two. He could imagine the screams and his hands clenched into balls. Then, he started to feel heavy in the chest, followed by a growing headache as he heard whispers. The world around him suddenly changed as Halsey's inquiries into his health went unanswered. He stared straight ahead as the world changed around him, Halsey, Mendez, and Sheng disappeared, with nothing but darkness. Then: a series of images and the sounds of hunger occurred.

 _Something gigantic coming out of a river in a surprise attack, its massive jaws devouring a cow whole, grinding its flesh and bones before it could utter a pained cry._

 _A police officer and his partner both running in fear from a lakebed as a man they escorted was devoured, getting into their car only to have themselves and part of the car be taken as well_

 _The most monstrous and tremendous sized Crocodile (of a sort) that he had ever seen, lay in wait under the water as a family returned to their damaged home, their car too close to the river already. Its wet horned scales were barely seen, like the log it pretended to be, while its jaw was slightly raised, ready to devour its prey._

 _A man swam across a river, bleeding as a monster similar to the one in the previous image chased him. Suddenly, more of them appeared as his blood traveled through the water. He screamed as their mouths closed in on him._

"Michael-" Halsey's voice snapped him out of it as he groaned and rubbed his temple. He looked at the doctor as the two Navy Spacers also looked at him with concern. He sighed. "I'm fine,"

"What did you see?" She asked him, disregarding the unasked answer. He looked at her, sighing. The lights in the room suddenly flickered as did the monitors and the holotable while he fumed. God (If there was sucha thing) knew how long those things had been on Reach, but it was too fucking _long_. Whatever these beasts were, they overstayed their welcome.

"Just send me over there and give me something that can pierce the hide of the strongest armor," He told her, almost like an order. "I want to bag some crocs,"


End file.
